


that lonesome sound

by xdarlingnickyx (Sonny)



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, First Time, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Jared, Omega Verse, Omega-pretending-to-be-Alpha, Self-Lubrication, SheriffJared, ShyJensen, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Virginity, Werewolf Discrimination
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3452867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/xdarlingnickyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From <a href="http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/70758.html?thread=24369766&#t24369766">spnkink_meme</a> : <b>Request: J2, a/b/o, beta-or-omega!Jared, discrimination, heat, self-lubrication</b> - Anonymous -  Hey, let's play Reverse! That! Trope! Jared is an omega (or beta, if just alpha/beta) that works in law enforcement, but everyone assumes he's an alpha due to his size. Society may not be completely biased against omegas (or betas), they definitely have rights, but it's easier to succeed as an alpha, especially in Jared's line of work. And in such an alpha-dominated field, there tend to be more douchewads neckbeards knot-heads that like to joke about keeping omegas (betas) barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen like the old days, or that it's not rape if they're in heat, stuff like that. <b>||</b> Except Jensen. The sometimes-shy alpha that Jared has a crush on who never partakes in that kind of mocking with the others and doesn't care about status. <b>||</b> And then something happens and Jared goes in to heat unexpectedly and Jensen has to help him through it and everything is beautiful and nothing hurts</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
** that lonesome sound **   
** chapter one **   


 

Jared was sitting in his truck, still on duty, listening to the local soft rock station play on his in-dash radio. His CB radio was mounted under his dash, next to his right knee. His left arm rested on the rolled-down window, right hand fingertapping on his thigh.

Having been appointed Sheriff of Bridgeton, by default, Jared truly never had a day off. If he wasn't dressed in Khaki browns, he was plain-clothes, but he was always near his police scanner, often when it was closer to his CB, which was connected to the Sheriff's office. Bridgeton wasn't a big town, by any means; it wasn't that much of a sleepy, southern town.either. Even in the quiet, something was burgeoning underfoot.

That was when Jared usually went home, showered, didn't shave, but did eat a light dinner, pack a sandwich or two with a thermos of coffee and some bottled water in his Igloo cooler in the back. Jared wasn't a heavy drinker; he drank socially, but then again, he wasn't ever social, much.

Sheriff Padalecki was tall, like an old forest pine--reaching six-four like he'd never stop evolving. Thank God he was proportional or he'd really look a fright, like a freak or a walking Ape-man. He had nothing too striking to offer: brown hair, brown-ish eyes and an angular face to square jawline, dangly arms with bulging biceps and flexing forearms, narrowing to bony wrists into massive wide palms, fingers were long and knot-knuckled, sometimes lightly tanned skin was covered in fine dark hairs. Upon sight, he wasn't earth-shattering, but once you sat down, got to know the Sheriff, looked into his ever-changing gaze and saw that defining, often-times disarming grin spread across parted lips, Jared Padalecki would gradually become more attractive, more arousing than over half of his hometown's population.

Everyone knew Jared; Jared knew everyone. Each person saw something different to like or grow affectionate toward the Sheriff, but, yet, not a single one of them felt inclined to date or pursue toward an intimate level. Jared didn't mind; he wasn't looking to mate, or even pining for a mate. Not lately, that is.

Bridgeton was a small town, not known for much. It's different than surrounding towns, mainly because of its high population of werewolves. The move toward Bridgeton, from other towns and cities, was by mere accident. Some think it was because the Sheriff, for the past sixty years, has always been wolf-in-nature. There's a comforting atmosphere of Humans and Weres getting along, managing to live amongst each other like the world had always been shaped this way.

The last Sheriff - Pryce Atherton - had been elected into his position. A near-fatal second heart attack had caused the instant seating of Deputy Sheriff Jared T. Padalecki into the appointed chair, with not so much as a bat of an eyelash. The townfolk-- _werefolk_ \--were used to Jared's manner and his familiar face, his gentle countenance and his fair practices. Everybody within the Sheriff's office was either Alpha or Beta; Atherton had been a old Army Alpha, as had the one before him.

No one has ever doubted Jared's ability to replace the old Sheriff, nor that he was any better. What they would never know was that he wasn't Alpha or Beta, because despite his size and his appearance, he was and always would be an Omega.

It has helped that Jared has been allowed to live his solitary life, stuck in his log cabin, amongst the woods he'll sometimes explore late in the twilight hours. He resides just outside of Bridgeton, where neighbors are miles apart, and he is forced to return to town at least once or twice a week to pick up his mail at the town post office.

The CB radio crackles, a crisp lone voice coming out of the tiny speaker.

"Sheriff, do you copy?" There's more crackle and sparks across radio waves. "Jared, you there?"

Jared gives out a latent sigh, leaning over to turn the radio volume lower, then pick up the coiled microphone. He presses the button under his thumb. "Sheriff, copy. Over." He lets a few seconds go by, in case the desk clerk, Deputy Beatrice "Beaty" Lamotte, has more to offer in conversation. "yeah, Beaty, whatcha need?"

Beaty clears her throat, already aware she'll probably rile the Sheriff's backbone with this bit of information. "Uhm...we have a _situation_. Thought you might want in on it."

"What--? What's goin' on?" Jared drops his hand on the 2-position on the steering wheel, his ring and pinky curling about the pleather. His left hand swipes over the lower part of his face, haphazardly scratching at his growing stubble.

"10-14. At Stubbey's."

 _Citizen holding a suspect_ , is the police call. A possible bail jumper. At Stubbey's Bar & Grille.

"Who?" Jared has the warrants tucked safely in the elastic band above his head on his driver-side visor. Once he's spoken, he pulls out the scribed list and the corresponding outstanding warrants. The Deputy doesn't come back in seconds; she seems to be waiting for him to ask. "Beaty, you okay?"

"...yeah, yeah, Sheriff...it's, uhm...Wilcox."

Jared pauses in flipping through the stack; he knows he has a few "Wilcox" attached to several of these warrants, and almost all have jumped bail, evading capture. Wilcox is a big name around Bridgeton; half are human, the other half...werefolk. Trouble is there's only one reason Deputy Lamotte would want to know if Jared wants "in" on this pick-up, and it has everything to do with his long-time crush on an Alpha, Jensen Ackles, werefolk cousin to the Wilcox family. "Didja send somebody?"

"yeah...Welling and Perez...Plus, Stubbey's got his usual bounce-crew, Willie Dean and Tobias." Beaty takes her fingers off the button, taking a much needed breath. "You said if we ever spotted Clay, you wanted us to bring you in, no matter what. Mind tellin' me now why I have it in **BOLD** letters on my notepad?"

Jared's never let anyone know of his feelings for Jensen, much less if he even cares for one particular sex or the other. No one ever seemed interested; to them, he was simply "Jared"-- or "Sheriff", to those he worked with on a daily basis.

Jared smirks from the side of his mouth. "Not now, Deputy. Long story."

"Plenty of eyes watchin' Wilcox...an' I was only filin' my nails when the call came in."

"Nice try, Beaty. Tell the guys I'm on my way."

"You headin' on over now? Where are you?"

"Nunya-business. I have to make a quick stop, then I'll be right there. Tell 'em to front-cuff Clay, sit him down in a booth. Give him a pitcher of whatever's on tap. I'll pay his tab."

"...uh, sure--sure, Sheriff..." Beaty knew when the discussion was over and done. "I copy. Over." No more crackles on the CB amplifier.

Jared twists the key already in the ignition switch, pressing down on the gas to rev the once-silent engine. Still in an idle position, he pulls out his cellphone, pressing a single digit to call out to a familiar line.

The other end is picked up within one-and-a-half rings. "...ya'ello?!?"

"Murray?! It's Jared."

"...heyyyyy, Sheriff...what can I do ya for?"

Jared can just imagine the laid-back attitude on display that Chad Murray emulates, sitting at the counter of the Bridgeton Gas & Tire and Gas-n-Go. "Is Jensen still there?"

"Yup. Why?"

"Don't let him leave. I'll be there shortly."

"I-I-I jus', uhhhh..." Chad looks down at the old wall rotary, having twirled the coiled extended phone cord around his left fingers and hand. He stares hard at the receiver once the other end goes utterly dead too quickly before he can make a semblance of a comment or question. "Oh...oh-kayyy...fuck you, too, Sheriff!" He slams his end down, hard, hearing the soft scratchy _scrape-scrape_ of sand-covered soles on greasy concrete.

"Who was that?" Jensen Ackles comes to the single doorway, from the mechanic's garage. He's dressed down for the end of the day, looking as he usually does, once the hot, dry daylight hours have dwindled down to cool, breezy late afternoon. He typically wears a Bridgeton Gas & Tire coverall over longjohn leggings and a long-sleeved shirt. But with the warmer weather creeping in, he wears muscled tank-t's with knee-length, tight-to-the-skin shorts. He still wears his black leather motorcycle boots, steel-toed. Jensen is sweaty, covered in all-over perspiration; thankfully, his buzz-cut affords him a more attractive appearance than Chad's shaggy dirty blond locks; Jensen's blond locks appear like a deep brown. There's no air-conditioning in either the office or the garage, only in the annex Gas-n-Go grocery store, which is separately owned from the Bridgeton Gas & Tire.

Chad tosses Jensen two sanitary handwipes, specially formulated to work on tough greases and oils. "Don't go home, yet. Sheriff's order."

Jensen stops wiping his hands, green eyes dilating and rapidly blinking. "Jared called?" Even though he's Alpha to Chad's human, Jensen seems more calm and even-toned than Chad, less excitable. "What'd he want?" He plops down on a lonely stool along the wall of automobile accessories and car parts.

Chad shrugs, taking another swig of his 2-liter orange soda as he tilts backward in the plastic lawn chair. He plays with the tiny TV remote to flick through the thousands of channels the garage gets ever since he jerry-rigged free cable from the Gas-n-Go. "Don't know...an' I don't care. He'll be here in, like, a minute." He makes a deep frown of his lips that doesn't mess with his face much.

"What?"

Chad smirks, shaking his head as he rocks back and forth. "Nothin', man..."

Jensen narrows his eyes on Chad, crossing forearms at the front of his chest. It pulls the muscles and tendons quite profoundly, showing off the little bit of working out Jensen gets from being a mechanic and generally eating well. He's not quite physically fit, because he knows his belly's a little on the flabby side--somehow love-handles have cropped up from nowhere without him doing a thing. Thankfully, Jensen lives and breathes out of his coveralls and he always bunches them around his pudgy waist near the end of his shift. "What? Spit it out, Murray."

Chad can't stand the channels anymore, can't find anything to watch at this crazy hour; he wants to go home and get online to watch porn or get on his game consoles to play the newest video games he had sitting on his coffee table. He makes a noise under-breath as he drops the chair's legs to the floor and adjusts to look out the wall of glass in front of his cashier counter. "Dude...I think our Sheriff _likes_ you."

Jensen shivers a bit, like a coldness crept up his body from the floor, maybe the Gas-n-Go seeps out air-conditioning through their shared wall. "We grew up together. We've known one another since we were both pups, except...'

"yeah, yeah...yawn-yawn...you on one side of the tracks, him on the other...you being best buds with his brother, him being kind of a nerdy, outer-fringe runt, an' then...Like the Hatfields and McCoys...or, the Capulets and Montagues..."

Jensen screws up his face, tossing out the dirtied handwipes. "And neither anecdotal story ending on a good note. Whatta you gettin' at, Chad?" He's still unsure of what Chad means to convey.

Just as Chad clears his throat and finally gathers enough courage to spill, a truck's headlights turn into the gas station, the front tires rolling over the rubber hose that clangs the sound to let them know a customer is at the pumps. Except Jared drives further into the small parking slots painted where Chad's car and Jensen's 'cycle are parked.

"...speak o' the Devil, an' he appears."

Jensen simply shakes his head, tired of Chad's endless innuendoing about Jared. It just wasn't possible, and not like Chad would understand. But an Alpha could not, and would not, get their sexual groove on with another Alpha, not even for stress relief or for sheer kicks. Werefolk did not bend that way, even if there was an immediate or a gradual attraction to arousal. "Let him into the garage when he gets here. Tell 'im to come find me where he knows I'll be." Jensen slides down off the stool, quietly returning to the place he'd left under the Lincoln Towncar's hood. 

Once he's back where he belongs, Jensen messes with the stereo's volume, just to drown out the awkward silence and the noise pollution that fills his head whenever Jared Padalecki is near.

This shouldn't be happening. Not with another Alpha. He's grateful for the pungent smells around him, and the dripping sweat cascading down his flesh; it knocks off his concentration, less focus on Jared's odor and the sounds of him talking, the sounds of his boots, just his overall disturbing cadence when he comes close.

Jared Padalecki isn't a showstopper, but god-damn does he grow on you. Jared's been growing on Jensen since he dragged the soaked-through, bedraggled little pup out of the swamp. And Jensen knows better than to give in and succumb to baser needs. He's better at relationships from a distance, preferably when the other Were has no idea of his emotions, or even that he cares more than anyone else.

The garage door from the front of the building is shut, but Jared knows it's open toward the back; he can hear Jensen's stereo--an old Hi-Fi from his WerePappy. It has every old gadgetry encased inside and stills runs, but Jared knows it has everything to do with Jensen's deft brilliance at fixing things and re-purposing their uses. Somehow he managed to not only add an attachment to utilize iPods, but he also aided-and-abetted Chad in their thievery of satellite cable. Jared didn't let-on that he knew, because it wasn't like the Bridgeton Gas & Tire hadn't earned their stars-and-stripes, before the addition of the swanky new quickie-mart. Plus, the manager of the Gas-n-Go was an outright jackass, someone who frowned upon the were-community and often profiled those types of customers every time he saw one of them come into his store. Jensen and the two other Weres who worked in the garage would sometimes prowl in guard-like mode to protect the shared grounds--so, yeah, Gas-n-Go could suck the Sheriff's balls.

Jared tucked his keys in his front pocket, sauntering over the wide berth near the right side of the three gas pumps to knock on the door molding and take a step up. He could see right away that Chad was in his element, chillaxing with remote, Liter of soda and some kind of cheesy-nacho'ed concoction on a Styrofoam plate, possibly radiated in the tiny microwave in the breakroom. 

Jared lifts his chin in introduction; Chad merely raises a dark eyebrow. 

The television volume is kind of disturbing, the comedy show's laugh-track tin-like and warbling. 

Jared just lifts an arm and points into the open doorway into the garage; Chad nods then uses his head as a directional vane. He can't help but chuckle deeply, because Chad's acting like the usual Bridgeton-bred human trapped in a were-world. Rolls like water off his back and he lazes like it's a summer's day at the beach. 

Jensen's work ethic is basically to ignore Chad and haul ass with his own workload, and Jared has always admired the older Were for his penchant to step back and never rock the boat. Jensen is downright sexy in his quiet-tude, even sexier when he's working under a car's hood...damn-fuckable when he's crouching beside his custom-made 'cycle, maintaining the standard he had back when he built the bike himself by his very own beautiful, capable hands.

Jared has no idea the impact he makes once he comes through the open doorway, or the flittering in Jensen's stomach, the tightening of his abs once he heard Jared's feet scoff along the dusty, greasy floor to sidle up to the engine;s side, dropping down to hang with him over the hood. Jared's as tall as the shape of the molding, as broad-shouldered as the width. No longer runt-like, or even a 'pup', Jared has filled-out over the years and Jensen hasn't ever _not_ noticed and taken notes.

"You almost done here?" Hazel eyes dart over the dark rusty implements and the foreign gadgetry like Jared knows what to look for. Jensen has taken him under, a time or two, but nothing has ever sunk in; Jared's always been too wrapped up in Jensen touching him, talking to him like an adult and then keeping him close, under his arm. Sure Jared's tightened bolts, replaced fan belts and helped check engine oil, but he's never taken advantage of learning about cars or engines without Jensen being there. It's why he never brings his truck or the squad cars anywhere else but to Jensen.

Jensen tries not to smile wide, feeling the tingles over his skin now that Jared is so damn close. He's shower-fresh and smokin' hot in his usual plaid shirt, row of pearl buttons sparkling, bottom hems tucked into leather-belted denim, so skin-tight the rounded mounds of the backside spread apart as the legs take a wide stance on the cemented ground. He can scent musky cologne and fruity shampoo; there a dormant coconut scent from when Jared sits out under the ultraviolet and needs some added sunblock protection. "...uh, yeah...almost..." He doesn't know why he can only talk in monosyllables around Jared these days; it's not like he feels any different. Still the same draw, and overall ache, knowing he can't have what he wants, what he's always wanted, so he makes himself suffer in penance.

Jared clears his throat, tucking his hands under his armpits as he folds into himself, elbows on the edge of the hood. He can feel the tepid heat rising, stifling his breathing. It's as Jensen is bent over that he lifts a little and leans in, cheek barely brushing the rounded shoulder joint covered in sweat droplets. He inhales deeply, eyes shutting. "--always like the way you smell at the end of the day..."

Jensen startles a bit because Jared is like this when they are alone, in their privacy. Odd that such a big Were can huddle into himself and appear small, delicate and vulnerable. Reminds Jensen of those runt years when Jared was a tiny pup, yipping at he and Jeff's heels to bring him along in their hunts. Jeff was Jared's older brother, a Beta, but still an all-around cool Were who was friendly to all pack statuses. The fact he let Jared tag along endeared the little runt to Jensen fairly quickly. Jensen had always assumed Jared was small for an Alpha, and he just had to grow into his long, willowy body; no sooner had he thought that was when Jared sprouted up like a blossoming seedling, legs like a newborn foal as he gradually reached puberty and---BAM!...became this instantaneous stud-Alpha. Jensen had almost been envious, knowing that through his own childhood and maturation as an Alpha, he had those kind of weird weak moments where he questioned his status daily.

Jensen's father had often been worrisome that his pretty, fragile son was actually an Omega. It took years after his puberty for Jensen to grow into the Alpha he was, and in those years, he had been shown that he wasn't..."right" or even normal for an Alpha. He blamed that mostly on having been shunned by his own family, sent to live with his cousins right after 13 summers had passed. He hadn't once moved away from Bridgeton, just moved on the other side of the tracks. Jeff still remained friends with him, and Jared always wagged his tail behind them, happiest in their company, sharing in mutual pack status woes.

Jensen drops his head to tuck Jared's head into the niche of shoulder to neck, his cheek on soft brown locks. Both of them inhaling the other's scent as they pull away. Jared pushes off the bodywork, moving toward a double sink. Jensen straightens his back muscles, shifting about to crack a few vertebrae. He senses Jared coming near after he hears the faucet shut off. A gentle touch to his hip makes him swivel, then a massive hand under-grips his chin. "Wha--?" He sputters out, eyes blinking fast and his lips purse in bewilderment as he feels the wet flannel being wiped over his face; Jared has spotted some wayward grease streaks. Jensen tends to wipe his sweat off with the backs of his dirty hands and the side of his arms, forgetting that they're covered in engine grease and dark oils. He sighs heavily, keeping his lids shut as he allows Jared to clean him off.

It's an intimacy they share, but it never grows into anything more. Like it's enough to just touch and tend to the other person. Jensen has often done this for Jared, over the years, and turnabout is fair-play. The problem comes when Jensen feels the rise of arousal, just by Jared's focus and attention, the concentration given to him being clean and tidy.

"Uh-oh...you're pretty-ing me up..." Jensen swipes at Jared's arm to drop it lower between their chests. “--wha's goin' on?”

Jared heaves a deep breath, letting out, "Clays' back...an' they're holdin' him for me at Stubbey's..."

Jensen narrows green on a darkening blue-ish tint in Jared's gaze; something is very, _very_ wrong. "...he's jumped bail again?"

Jared slowly shakes his head. "He broke an R.O. with Reba."

Reba MacNally...or Reba Wilcox, before the divorce, is Clay's ex-mate. Reba took a restraining order (an R.O.) out on her husband, during their long separation, and she's never stopped renewing it. She's afraid he'll make everything all nice and calm, for their litter, and then one day, he'll slip and he's back to dealing again, with his other cousins. Just like the old days of what broke their mating apart in the first place.

"GOD DAMMIT!!" Jensen wrenches his own self away from Jared, hands on hips and then swipes one hand over his face. His hands are still clean; he never picked up a tool or touched the engine once he knew Jared was on his way in, just went back to looking "busy" ubder the hood.

Jared crosses arms over his chest, hands cupping his biceps. "I need you to come with me, because he has to tell me where his last residence was. I have to check it out to make certain he's not cookin' or dealin' again."

Jensen twists suddenly to face Jared. "Why? Is that in the warrant, too?"

Jared tilts his head from side to side. "It's an old outstanding one from a few years back, one of the times he _did_ jump bail for C &D, but we never found the evidence to prove it, nor the place he was stayin'. That time I think he may have been out of county lines. Atherton was on duty, back then."

"God...christ almighty..." Jensen stumbles over to his stereo, shuts it off and untwines the coverall arms from his waist. He weakly tucks only one arm in a sleeve--the left, but then Jared rushes over to help Jensen fully dress. The front of the coverall is metal snaps, so there's a huge V-shape to the waistband of Jensen's biking shorts. The bottom hem of the tank-t bunches around the extra-weight, but Jared pays it no mind as he helps do up a few snaps. Jensen just stands still, allowing Jared to administer tending to his clothing; it's a heady rush of emotions all at once. For Clay, for Jared, for being Alphas...just for having worked all day in this sweltering heat stuck under a car hood. Jensen wants to lean into Jared's chest and lay his head down, right where he knows it fits along the collarbone. Damn...what he wouldn't give to be a Beta or an Omega--well, wait, _never_ an Omega. 

Not _that_ \--it just wasn't the thing to _want_ to be in Bridgeton. 

Most of the human population never acknowledged Omegas, mainly because some of the werefolk tended to be discriminant of the lower pack status. The town was chock-full of Alphas and Betas, less Omegas per household. Omegas tended to be from outer-laying towns and cities, having to someday move to Bridgeton because of their chosen mates. Throughout the years, the Omega population had grown, by only a coincidence. They would never outnumber the Alphas or Betas.

Jared didn't snap Jensen in completely. He knew Jensen liked to keep the coverall open a little to allow the air to flow through so he could cool off. He did fix the collar, swiping along the bristly neck and throat, then he threw the flannel across to the sink. "Think Chad'll be safe here on his own?"

"yeah..." Jensen makes his voice sound tiny, weak; he's exhausted from taking care of his cousins. He wishes they'd grown the fuck up, as they're older than him and fuckin' know better than to keep breaking the law like this, time and time again. Clay's not the worst of them, but he's close. Jensen is so god-damn thankful Jared is the Sheriff, otherwise he knows he'd have to work that much harder to backtrack Clay's bad scrapes if he found him locked up in a jail cell, making a collect call for Jensen's uncle to post bail again.

Jared hates the burden these Wilcox cousins place on Jensen's shoulders; he hates the way Jensen hangs his head in shame, unable to look up at him, like it's a reflection in _him_ what Clay does. "Hey!" He surrounds both hands around Jensen's neck, forcing him to straighten and lift his chin. He gives him a small grin of reassurance. "You're not alone here, man." Jared roughly pulls the Alpha closer, placing a soft kiss to both temples, letting his brow rest on Jensen's. He gives him a mild shake. "I'm not gonna call it in until I get everything I need and we know the whole story. I need you with me all the way...'kay?"

Jensen closes his eyes, saying a silent prayer for Jared's level head and his ability to focus and master his emotions. It's weird how their roles have shifted; how one Alpha had become the bearer of problems to fix, while the other opened themselves to the tender affections of brotherhood. Jensen knows this isn't typical of Weres of the same status, not even with two Alphas.

"Chin up, pup!' Jared chucks Jensen under his chin, letting his fingers linger a little to feel the warm stubble. It's something Jensen used to say to him, something he's never forgotten that the Alpha had become for him.

Home.

**= = || || = =**

Jared drives the whole way to Stubbey's; Jensen is seated in the passenger seat, leaning heavily on the open window ledge as he lets the slight wind from driving pelt his face and course down his overheating body. The middle console has been dropped to split the two sides of the benchseat, and Jared's rests his right arm on the soft plush, steering the wheel with his left in a rather laid-back manner, slightly slouched in the driver's seat. Two coffees sit, steaming, in the deep coasters from when Jared had stopped off at the fast-food Drive-Thru and picked up the drinks and something snack-worthy to tide them over until they finished talking to Clay, to then figure out exactly how many violations had been racked up before he'd been caught.

Jensen feels a little better, having food in his belly, air blowing in his face and now he contemplates the delicious aroma wafting over to him of the coffee just waiting to be slurped on. Somehow, letting the 20-ounce cup sit a bit longer makes the rush of feeling linger. Yet, again, Jared is taking care of him, letting him stew in his juices awhile before he sees his cousin. Of curse Jensen won't rage-on or yell at Clay, but Jared knows the inner venting Jensen does on himself needs to fester, then he'll be perfectly sound in talking to Clat to get a bunch of information needed.

Jared knows Jensen so well, he takes the long way to Stubbey's; it's also a little of his on-duty neighborhood/town "watch". He's fully aware he already has staff working this shift, besides himself, but it's always a good sign to show that the Sheriff isn't ignoring the fact that, from day to day, crime always happens.

Bridgeton didn't just decide one day to make their whole police force werefolk; it was truly the best way to almost prevent crimes from happening. Weres had a keen sense of what was about to happen, no matter where they were. It's why some of them go around with their guns and badges, even when plain clothes on their days off. Alphas are best--well, _better_ \--at patrolling, and Betas have a strong sense of right and wrong. Betas can calm the Alphas; Alphas bring a presence of strength to Betas, where they feel weakest. It's also why most partners on the force are teamed as an Alpha and a Beta, never the same pack status in pairing.

Omegas are not singled out. Some just couldn't bear the constant wrenching of their emotions when dealing with a case. Omegas are heart-sore and gut-clenching when faced with any type of antagonism or adversity. Most would rather stand way behind Alphas and Betas, allowing the stronger pack to deal with the troubles and problems. If an Omega is working alongside higher pack statuses, they are "in service" to them and actually run the office, making up most of the secretarial staff and sometimes maintain the status quo of building maintenance and cleaning house. No Omega has ever wanted to carry a gun, holstering it to their side, nor have they ever wanted to reach a higher employment than clerical, somewhere at the front desk with the Deputy in charge. They follow orders quite eloquently and don't really make too much noise to start a revolt.

Jared feels the most content in his secret, because of his sheer size and his ability to morph his personality and his manners into the Alphas that surround him. If anything, he's absorbed Jensen's Alpha-ness, sapping him of everything he ever saw him do or say. He's learned how to mask his Omega-scent and curb his desires to a point where now they no longer sneak up on him. He takes a few days off--usually a weekend in his cabin, fishing and hunting in his own woods--and he protects his secret life, and has done so for the last five or six years. 

No one thought it odd that he simply slipped right into the role of Sheriff, after being a rugrat Deputy, then worked hard to become a Deputy Sheriff, under Sheriff Atherton. Something about Jared always rang true to the old Sheriff, like he saw an old world Were who could tackle anyone and anything that came his way, as long as he had the support of the community. Jared having grown up all his life in Bridgeton helped in a huge way, and he'd be forever grateful for the choices his family made for him, to help keep him safe and protected.

He never wanted to be an Omega, always admired and respected Alphas. His father had been an Alpha, mother a Beta, brother a Beta, as well. His parents had died, one right after the other; Jared's mother had become too sickly after the birth of her only daughter, then the girl pup had not made it past three months out of the womb before she, too, had passed on. Jared's father had attempted to live on, but too much heartache and being mateless, grieving over the dual loss of mate and pup, catapulted him toward a darkness that many Weres faced in dreaded silence. Jeff had packed up he and Jared's things and marched over to their grandweres farm--more like a plantation. Jared had spent his entire puberty and maturity in a place that afforded him to continue keeping his lower pack status hidden. Even from his own WerePappy.

Jared gives a sidelong glance toward Jensen, who has lifted his chin out the window, letting the brisk wind dry his hair and skin. He can scent Jensen even more, and it's a heady rush of what he has come to feel for Jensen ever since the older pup had shyly approached him from behind his brother's back. He recalls the very first day he met Jensen Ackles quite vividly; what he keeps most hidden, deep inside, is what he had felt instantly when the quiet Alpha lowered those soft green eyes to him, gently taking his wee-bitty hand into his stronger paw and giving him what should constitute a manly(Alpha) handshake. 

Jared remembers swallowing hard, then feeling the tremors quake up his bony arm to his shoulder and spreading outward over his chest--felt like he was having a heart attack, but he knew he was too young, just a pup, himself. Jeff's affections for his baby brother out-poured from Jensen in a natural way as if Jensen was his family, too. Of course Jared had a few dopey years of puppy love, but soon he had come to realize that Jensen wasn't about to budge for any Were--girl or boy, Beta or Omega. Jensen simply had never exuded much sexuality except to appear sexy or sensual from just being his own rather ordinary self. 

Jared was lucky in that Jeff's pursuit of a mate overshadowed his own search, so when his brother had found his perfect match, in both Alpha and Omega, Jared rallied behind the new editions to their patchwork family. Jared loves his nieces and nephews, and will often pup- or cub-sit when he has the free time available. No one makes any demands on Jared; he always acts as if life couldn't be happier for him, and it's true. Jared doesn't feel the emptiness most Weres do when mateless for too long. Most had been mated, and knotted, somewhere near their formative years, the 4-5years after they enter puberty. But now that they've integrated with Humans, they seem to have grown away from traditions and sometimes "date" and mate as their Human counterparts do.

But there are those Alphas, with smaller packs, who go by a very old Were-code of raising a family, more traditionally with a Lead Alpha, his collection of mates--be them Betas or Omegas. They don't live "in" Bridgeton but in the outskirts, on the other- _other_ side of the tracks. Sometimes on farms and all living in one house, often sleeping in the same beds, sharing in birthing and raising the litters of pack born nearly every couple of weeks. They keep out of town, only venturing inside when needing food and supplies, and sometimes the younger mates are allowed one or two nights of "fun", maybe some frolic. Many make their living by the weekly WereFarmer Markets open every weekend, selling their arts and crafts or offering out their homegrown foods, homemade pies and cakes. There's only a few of these Lead Alphas who have overcome those traditions and broken into typical human markets, making a majority of their money from other non-conforming Weres and unsuspecting Humans.

Jensen outright hates these kind of packs, hates their Alphas even more. He has to deal with them coming in and bartering for gas and car parts, mainly for their family vehicles and their farm equipment. He also has to deal with one particular Alpha--a Lead Alpha who simply goes by the single name of Misha. He is fully cognizant that this formidable Alpha is the M.K. Collins who owns all the Gas-n-Go marts in Bridgeton and outer-laying towns and cities. 

Jensen dislikes Misha because he believes himself to be a veritable God amongst his pack, so he carries this with him when he eeks and slithers around Bridgeton. He makes buddy-buddy with other Alphas, offering some recognition of Betas in power-seats, but will not and won't ever "see" that Omegas exist or breathe the same air he does--even for Misha's own Omegas, who sometimes flock into Bridgeton just to catch some fresh air and not be so oppressed in their own home, on their farm. Jensen knows it's a typical old-were-world Alpha way.

Jensen tightens and tenses at the thought of Misha, because he has taken some liberties with knowing and getting along with Jared. It's weird how exhilarated Misha would appear around Jared; being the Sheriff, Jared had to keep the peace and level tensions. Jensen knows Jared doesn't like Misha much, either, but puts on a pretense of them having a rather close brotherhood as being two Alphas of the same ilk. Jensen has seen the way Jared is with Misha's mates, sometimes harboring them at local shelters and halfway houses when they are attempting to run away, run toward a better life in a faraway town. Jared can't, yet, prove that there's anything physically abusive happening from Lead Alpha's total dominance and control, but both Jensen and Jared assume there's deeper, more severe harm being done on an emotional, psychological level.

Misha lives in town, with his Human lover. He doesn't boast, but he doesn't hide away his affair. It proves how ruthless and cunning he can be that he's not ashamed of how he keeps a dual life, and he has gained some type of respect from Humans and other Weres because of this.

It's these thoughts that rumble through Jensen's mind, and Jared's, too, because Stubbey's Bar and Grille is a local hang-out for anyone who feels self-important and too-big-for-their-britches. They have a feeling Misha could be there, and might start some trouble. Misha likes to play pool in the back of Stubbey's, and he likes to drink the cheap swill they call "beer", enough of it to block out the fact that he hates his life and everyone in it.

At least Jared and Jensen hope Misha has taken a night off and had actually gone home to his farm and seen to his mates, his pups and cubs aching for him. One less piece of drama they have to deal with while handling Clay.

"Oh...whoa!..." Jared startles as he feels the soft caress to his curled hand.

"...s-s-sorry, man." Jensen picks up a paper napkin from their makeshift fast-food trashbag, then wipes off the coffee he spilled on Jared's fingers and wrist. "Fuck! I wanted to get your coffee ready for you, so you wouldn't have to do it all one-handed."

Jared gives over his arm, freely, side-watching Jensen in the delicate way he wipes off the tepid liquid and brushes off creamer dust and sugar pellets; he even lifts Jared's hand to his mouth to blow cool air on the slightly reddish skin. He snickers at the sight of Jensen, the quirkiness he's always been able to witness to how "Alpha" he's not. Jensen has an odd maternal instinct with him that has never known bounds. It's so sweet, it almost makes Jared tear-up. "I'm good...I'm fine--good, Jen...it wasn't very hot anyway." That, apparently, doesn't matter much as Jensen now presses a few light kisses, letting the skin brush his cheek as he mutters out more "sorries". Jared tweaks his fingers across Jensen's face. "You'll be in the right frame of mind when you see Clay. He's gonna need as much of your support as you can muster." Now he grips Jensen's hand, drawing it down to the middle console to hold and console. "I know what you do--what you've done--for these Wilcox boys, as your uncle doesn't seem to mind that they run half-wild and untamed, leaving you to be the Lead Alpha and lone 'parental' figure."

"I don't wanna be, but I guess I hafta." Jensen squeezes Jared's fingers then pulls away to pick up his own coffee cup, taking a sip to sit forward a little and stare out the windshield. "I swear...if I had the kinda cash I've been prayin' years for, I'd hightail it outta Bridgeton, make a clean break from all the Ackles and Wilcox-s...an' I'd open my own shop."

Jared takes a swig of his own coffee, this time, trading his right hand for his left as he bends low to scratch and itch low on his left leg. "What? A custom 'cycle shop?" He knows Jensen loves to work on classic cars, too. "Some kind of restoration auto shop for grown-up Hot Wheels?”

Jensen gives out a deep, hearty chuckle, his cheeks going plum-red. "No, man. A, uhm..." He mumbles something incoherent behind the hand he brings up to his mouth as he returns to lean out his window.

"A-whut-now?" Jared narrows his eyes and wrinkles his forehead, pretty unclear that the two words that came out of Jensen's mouth actually _didn't_ come out. He swears he heard...

" _...a pastry shop..._ "

Uh, yeah, that's what Jared thought he heard. "Really?" He doesn't know why but the idea of Jensen having dreamed of owning a little business selling pastries just...curls his stomach in tight knots, making his heart beat even faster. This Alpha...this big, beautiful, tender and giving Alpha...wants to bake pies and cakes for a living. But Jared's pulse races at the idea that Jensen wouldn't want to do this in Bridgeton, near him. That Jensen feels a little ashamed of being an Alpha who owned that kind of a shop in public. He's tasted some of Jensen's baked goods, which are often secretly disguised as being from his aunts or his female cousins, but Jared has always known that Jensen has a flair for cooking that he's kept hidden for years.

Jensen flushes at the broad grin that creeps out over Jared's face. "yes...really. But, I don't think I can do that kind of thing here, or at least, Bridgeton might not be ready for a Alpha who bakes for a living."

" _ **I**_ like it."

"What?" Jensen twists his head around, almost burning his lips with his next sip of coffee.

Jared begins to nod his head emphatically. "I'd loan you the money, Jen, you know that, don't you? I know quite a few empty spaces downtown...you could fit a little bakery there or a, uh...pastry shop, whatever the formal name of it is."

"I'm too well known aroun' here for bein' a mechanic...it's an Alpha-type of job."

"But, if it's not who YOU are, man, why make it what you do for a livin'?"

Jensen smirks, leaning back in the corner of his seat to turn and face Jared. “So, what-? You always wanted to be a small-town Sheriff?"

Jared puts down his cup, in its perfect slot holder, then places hands at ten-and-two on the steering wheel. "No, I, uh, just always wanted to help people...humans or Weres, didn't matter. Always felt like a good problem solver. I like to--better the community, doing something kind an' respectful for my hometown. I like Bridgeton. I like the people who live here, who I've grown up with."

Jensen begins to shake his head. "You'd have such a different outlook on everything if you'd been raised like I had."

Jared understands Jensen's inner fury at this over-sentimentalism Jared tends to have about this place. "It wasn't all bad, huh? Jen? Jeff...an', uh...me. Your friends...some of your family. Not all Wilcox-s are bad blood."

Jensen feels terrible for lumping Jeff and Jared into what was bad or worse about this town. No, of course not _everything_ in his life had turned to crap, but if he hadn't had either of them, especially Jared to watch over, tend to and partially raise, then yeah, he probably wouldn't be too far off Clay or any of his other cousins who had committed petty crimes and/or been violent enough to be sent to detention centers and prisons for years or, sadly, for Life without parole. He doesn't know how he's become the Alpha he has and not been as adamant about mating or finding someone to mate with that would settle him down; it was like he was already mated and settled, just living his life until something bigger came along and dragged him away. He reaches out to pat Jared's forearm, forcing himself not to curve his hand around the flexing muscles--to just touch lightly then draw backward. "No...no, you're right. I've had some pretty good times--some really great moments here, with you--" God dammit! "--a-a-an' Jeff."

Jared relaxes, letting out a soft, high sigh as he releases the joints and muscles he's kept tense as Jensen spoke; he was scared, for, like, a minute. "Thank God Jeff broke free of our bachelor circle, huh? The only one of us who truly felt like he was missin' out on finding a mate, havin' his own little family..."

Both of them have used Jeff as a means to supplement the things they don't have, except one another, and the lives they live apart. It had always seemed just enough to be there, somewhere, without living together, but able to meet whenever and wherever they wanted, keeping their brotherhood flowing as easily as it had when they first met. It would be terrible to change something, to up the ante and make a move to ruin the good thing they had going, right here, right now.

Jared pats the hand on his shoulder, before it went away. Life could be good--Life was good. He had no idea how much better it could be if only he let Jensen in just a little deeper, unburdening his lifelong secret of being an Omega, stuck in an Alpha-cloak.

Little did Jared know that it wouldn't be much longer before he would find out just how essential Jensen would become, and how everything they had done and been to one another would shift into something that they both never knew they had been wanting, aching for.

Stubbey's neon sign stood bright green and pink, depicting a ready-to-charge red bull, with horns down and pointy sharp. The parking lot wasn't full, but packed with its usual cars, trucks and big-rig Semis. A normal evening crowd, during the week.

Jared pulls in and finds an empty spot up front, close to the familiar squad car. He slides out of the driver's seat, leaning in to pull out his Sheriff's badge and bring out his holstered gun to put at the space at the back of his jeans.

Jensen waits for Jared on the sidewalk, hands tucked into his coverall's pockets.

Time to get this show on the road.

**= = || || = =**

The minute Jared walks through the doorway of Stubbey's, Clay Wilcox's shoulders sag a little; he's familiar with the Sheriff, and had been told plenty of times that Jared would often be on his ass, if he wasn't careful. The second he sees the face of his cousin, quietly slipping in behind the Sheriff, Clay's entire body goes slumped and he actually hangs his head. There's something about this cousin of his that rips him to shreds when those green eyes gaze on him and lose a bit more respect. Clay knows he's bad and he isn't sure he'll ever learn, but he always feels dead and buried every time Jensen sees him cuffed and under the watchful gaze of Johnny Law.

Jared puts out his arm to hold Jensen back for a bit, then he gestures with his head for Deputies Welling and Perez to come over. He tells them how this plan is going to go down: Deputy Welling will go to the squad car, make a call to the Judge assigned to Clay's case and call in his report to Beaty, Deputy Perez will stand near the booth where Clay sits, but won't be within listening distance, and Jensen will be allowed twenty minutes to talk to his cousin and then try to get out of him the information needed. Perez can stand with Jared, who will only be waiting at the bar, sipping at the free soda Stubbey's bartender will give him, but she won't be sitting down, because Clay could run and Jared needs her mobile as quick as possible. Once Jensen gathers the information, Welling and Perez will take Clay into custody to await the Judge's ruling on whether to keep Wilcox there, in their cells, or to transfer him out-of-town to await further judgment.

Jared clamps a strong hand on Jensen's shoulder, then lets the palm slide down the back to rest at the lower dip, propelling Jensen toward the booth; there's some resistance of Jensen even taking one step away, toward Clay, but he manages to get his head on straight and grow a pair as he draws away from Jared and heads over to the booth. 

Taking the benchseat opposite his cousin is a swift moment, Jensen relaxes back, bringing both arms up to tangle his fingers of both hands together. "All right, I got my ears wide open, 'Cuz...let me have it..." Jensen raises a lone dark eyebrow to offer out an ear; Clay begins to stammer out excuses and sound reasoning from his own mind, never apologizing or showing much regret. Jensen blinks once and turns his head to look at Jared.

It's going to be a long fuckin' night.

Jared takes in Jensen's long stare and the green eyes blazing with frustration as the broad shoulders raise up, then fall back down, fingers are tightly gripping each other. Jared wishes he were there, beside Jensen--for Jensen--but he understands how families work around Bridgeton and even though Jared is Sheriff, and a fellow Were, it doesn't bring him closer to the type of living Jensen and Clay had gone through during their maturity. Fam is fam, and just because he knew Jensen, was close to Jensen, didn't make Jared any more "family" or even close to the Wilcox-s.

He saunters over to the bar, prepared to straddle a stool when he spots a pale face in a darkened corner, a few feet from the bar's side counter. Two huge brown eyes stare over at him under thick dark eyebrows, then the head bows over the newspaper. Nervous fingers shoved long tendrils of dark brown--sometimes black--strands behind cute, perky ears.

Jared knows this young woman; hell, he even knows her family--her pack. She's been around since he's been part of the Sheriff's office and he's watched her grow from her pup years into this awkward colt-ish cub. Her name is Genevieve, but her family calls her “Gen” or “Genie”, her friends call her “Viv”. Jared always calls her "Genevieve" because it seemed such a long, proud name for such a pipsqueak of a young lady; she had a special air about her that almost demanded she be treated like a precious jewel. He knew her father held her in high regard, so finding her hidden in this dark corner of Stubbey's, almost cowering away from only his gaze, made him hunch up his shoulders and push away from the bar.

Jared taps the surface. "Make that TWO sodas, Burl." When the two tall glasses come his way, Jared snatches them both, in each hand, then walks around the corner of the bar to make his way over. He can already see that Genevieve tries to slink further back into the wooden benchseat, hoping the Sheriff isn't actually on his way over to her. He stops just beside her table. "Is this seat taken?"

Genevieve snickers softly because it's a pretty huge bench and the idea that there's anyone around big enough to take that entire surface--well, he is really tall and quite massive for an Alpha-were. If anybody can fill the space, it's the Sheriff. "No, uh...no-no..." She lifts up one side of her mouth in a soft smirk, tucking the escaping strand of long hair again. "I'm, uh...waiting for my, uhm..."

Jared groans a little as he takes a seat, then hands over the soda in his right hand. "Don't, Genevieve. Don't try to lie to me right from the start." He knows she knows better, and he knows they have a better camaraderie than the distant aloofness she's trying to build between them.

Genevieve acts hurt. "I'm not--" She realizes she hunkered up her shoulders and almost yelled across the table. "--I'm not gonna lie, Sheriff." She looks in the distance, far beyond the long portion of the bar; her eyes venture toward the backroom where several pool tables are set-up.

Jared can see the young female cub is literally quaking in her skin; she attempts to sit on her hands as her eyes glance down at the newspaper. Even above the drone of the jukebox music and the thrum of regular customer noises in the bar, he can hear the rowdiness, and the raucous laughter being raised from the pool room. It's a room full of Alphas and they aren't afraid to speak their minds, telling crass dirty, and sometimes offensive, jokes. They haven't become too loud, yet, but Jared's certain that with a few more rounds of beer, they will become truly abhorrent and Stubbey will probably send over his bouncers to kick them out before they chase away all his good-paying patrons.

"Why aren't you home--?" Jared takes a look at his wristwatch. "--and in bed? Jesus, is it really _that_ late?" He hopes she takes it as a light tease when he makes a frightened face of concern.

Genevieve lets out a soft laugh, still glancing over in the other room. "I'm not--" She furrows her brow, narrowing her gaze on the Sheriff. "Don't you know? Haven't you heard?"

"What?" Jared shook his head, raising eyebrows as he moved his mouth toward the straw, taking a long slurp. "Tell me?" He can see the need for her hesitation in responding, but he wants her to know he's not going to do anything to her until he has all the facts.

"I'm to be mated. I've, uh... found my Alpha and we--" Genevieve takes a hard swallow, needing a sip of the chilled drink; ice cubes jingle against the side of the glass. "--he's here, with someone. I'm jus' waitin' here, before we can go home."

Jared goes stiff; something peculiar courses down his spine. He knows her age to be quite advanced; she's had a long, hard life of taking care of her parents and siblings. He had some idea she wouldn't be mated until her father was good and ready to be without her, as she was needed at home, much stronger and capable, mature and intelligent enough to tend to the pack she was born into. "Who?" He hates having to ask as he had no idea that there had been a bans said at any of the churches or anywhere where she frequented. Jared reaches across to place a hand on the small wrist. "--an' why now? You're not--are you?" He didn't want to tack a name on her, but many young female cubs her age often found themselves in the family way, carrying litters but without an Alpha or a new pack to tend to them. Too much of the female Human influence.

"No...no, I'm not carrying, tho'..." Genevieve gives out a tiny smile. "I wouldn't mind havin' pups of my own, finally, after taking care of my brothers an' sisters half my life."

Damn. Jared had been looking forward to seeing Genevieve go off and make something of herself, after the nest had been emptied, everyone mated except her. She was too smart to be tied to an Alpha, pregnant and barefoot her first time; he had wanted better for her, could see it in her face each time they had long, thought-provoking conversations. As he watched the various expressions cross her face, he slowly began to let it dawn on him that there were only a few packs around here that went against the grain and skipped new traditions. The old manner of courting being that the Alpha approached the intended mate's father and arrangements were made, often times without the consent of the mate, especially if they were an Omega. And Jared knew of only one particular Alpha who frequented Stubbey's, who would dare not only to show his face with his human mistress, but then drag along an innocent Omega mate, like she was no better than chattel.

 ** _Misha_**.

 **TBC**...


	2. Chapter 2

  
** that lonesome sound **   
** chapter two **   


Jared's innermost fears had been confirmed when he heard that familiar whistle calling a mate over to their Alpha. Whenever these Lead Alphas would come into town, bringing their broad of mates with them, sometimes they tended to revert back to their young ages or their youths, if they were older, and they had to be called back to their Alpha. Each Lead Alpha had a distinct, sharp whistle; every time Jared heard _this_ particular one the hairs on his neck stood on end, and tingles went down his spine.

He reaches out to lay a calm hand on Genevieve's wrist; she's about to slide over and shoot off her seat, forgetting that she was cowering in fear, agonizing over the return of her mate and that she had been in the middle of a conversation. Jared hasn't even twisted his head around to look over his shoulder; it won't matter, because he knows what this Lead Alpha looks like. "You don't have to run at his beck and call, Genevieve." He zeros his gaze on her pale face and big dark eyes filled with inner fright. "You two aren't mated, yet--am I right?" Jared tightens his fingers around the slight wrist. "I can't smell him on you. He hasn't claimed you yet, has he?" He can detect she's trying to answer with only head gestures, but she thinks they can be heard and doesn't want to feed her Lead Alpha too much information that could get her into trouble. He gets up to block the view of Misha. "I can take you back home, Genevieve, I can get you someplace safe, or--is it your Pop? The girls? Does someone need help an' you're bein' put up for sacrifi--?" He doesn't get to finish his question as he can feel the nearness of an Alpha's disturbing heat.

It's not a pleasant sensation because of the type of personality Misha has, especially toward lower pack. Somehow, in some weird way, Misha has a sixth sense about Jared. It's not overt and he can't pinpoint exactly what riles and rankles him about the Sheriff, but Jared thinks his cover could be blown any day, if he stayed in Misha's company for too long. There's enough masked scent and latent arousal that Jared can act more like an Alpha who is either disinterested in sex and knotting, or that he's already got a mate. Jared has one hand flat on the table, one hand cupping the top of the pleather benchseat; he can hear the footfalls making their way up behind him. He turns at that exact moment; Misha nearly bumps into his burly chest.

"Not _this_ way, Collins. Let's take _this_ outside." Jared's trying to push Misha backward with his presence, except the Alpha likes to bump chests, like two male animals locking "horns".

Misha smirks as if he knows something secret, then moves around the Sheriff to make a wayward grab for Genevieve's arm. "Come on, hon', we got ourselves a table over here."

Jared scoots to the left to block Misha's reach. "She can't be 4-feet near the bar, Collins. Not until she's 21."

Misha snorts out a laugh, hands on hips. "Strange practices, Law Man. She's old enough to bear children, and vote...and yur gonna pick on us 'bout how close she is to a piece o' furniture."

Jared takes a step forward, feeling the smaller body move behind him to grab his side then his arm.

"It's...it's okay, Sheriff. I-I-It's gonna be fine." Genevieve shuffles and squeezes around Jared's side to come out front, between them, showing both Jared and her Alpha her profile. "--c-c-can we jus' go home, Alpha? Please..." Crossing her thin arms over her chest, she hangs her head low, afraid to meet those mesmerizing cool blue eyes.

As if she were his only mate in the world, Misha chuckles sweetly, reaching out to cup the sides of the small neck, using his thumbs to raise the jutting chin. "It's all right, babe. Just a few more hours, an' we'll go home, call it a night, huh." He smiles at her to get a return grin; she does, but it's quickly hidden by another dip of her head. Misha curls an arm around her hunched shoulders, steering her away. "Now, come on...go on over to Dani--see her--Wave to Genni, Darlin'!" The tall, curvy red-head gives a bored waved in mid-air, pulling out a chair at a lone table in front of the bar as she takes a seat of her own; she plops her purse--which looks more like a straw, woven beach-bag--on the table, taking out her wallet to flip through her credit cards.

Reluctantly, Genevieve follows her Alpha's orders; before she makes it halfway across the floor, she twists around to glance at Jared over her shoulder, almost as if she wants to apologize, even for the things she knows she didn't do. It's like she's embarrassed to be seen around town, and inside this public bar with not only her Alpha, but her Alpha's human lover, as well.

Jared tries to convey a look of acceptance and understanding to the young female Omega, letting her know that even if she leaves with Misha tonight, he will _never_ stop looking out for her. Anytime she's in Bridgeton, she has a close friend to turn to--they are practically a "family" of a different sort, being the same pack status.

Misha's all happiness and light as he watches his new, unmated Omega walk toward the table; it's the docile obedience that pleases him, and it's the sheer audacity of another Alpha attempting to horn in on his bonding that makes him turn around and face the Sheriff. "How dare you try and influence this precious time with my Omega." He's not quite in Jared's face, since the Sheriff is several inches taller than him, so he has to crane his neck a bit. But he's close enough to be intimidating, as he controls his rage and frustration. "Just because you're the All-Mighty Sheriff, don't mean you can rule over my roost."

"Careful, Collins..." Jared could see that there was some tension boiling beneath; a pulse beats on the left temple. "...you wouldn't want to make another 'scene', now would you?" He folds his arms over his chest, fingers curling around biceps.

Misha lets out a long, suffering burst of air through his nostrils, stepping back a few inches, where he didn't have to crick his neck so bad. "No...no, you're right, Sheriff, I should show some appreciation for coming out tonight and celebrating the future mating of my new Omega." He knows how much it pisses Jared off how easily he can win over were-fathers and take their Betas and Omegas. It's odd that the Sheriff, a professed Alpha, has more empathy for the Omegas, but--Misha feels a nice boost to his ego to send another higher pack reeling, and possibly proving who is the better, worthier, Alpha in town.

Jared narrows his eyes on Misha. "Gloat--or 'celebrate'--all you want, Collins, it still doesn't change the fact that as many mates as you take in, you'll never truly _have_ them the way you _want_ them."

"I _**own**_ body and mind..."

"...an', thankfully, never their hearts or souls. You can't force 'em to care. I know you care less for them an' only for the ones you have currently. I just need to wait long enough. Pretty soon you'll have another Beta under your wing and Genevieve will be long forgotten." Jared raises two eyebrows with a smirk. "Whatever you did, promised to or have given her father, in lieu of taking her--" He wants Misha to know he is totally aware of his M.O. when it comes to his private "mating rituals". "She will keep coming back to town, and I will see her, and talk to her. I can be with her in ways that you CAN'T--" Jared said these words in puffs of breath in Misha's face. "—and NEVER will!" He can never explain why he feels so protective and "brotherly" toward this Omega, but he's willing to tough it out and suffer Misha's wrath.

Misha is about ready to go for Jared and pounce on him, but Jensen makes a mad dash across the floor, as he has left Clay with Deputy Perez to be taken back to the Sheriff's office. "Hey! Hey!...Alphas...whoa, whoa...brothers, remember?!" He's got one forearm across Jared's chest, but only his right hand is pressed flat to Misha's chest, then it's only five fingertips. "...go back to your neutral corners or I'll make you two hug it out."

Jared bristles a bit, trying to shake off the need to mess with Misha and ruffle his feathers more; he lets a small grin eek out over his lips, nostrils flaring as he snickers lightly. He can see that Misha doesn't see the humor in Jensen either touching him--barely--or that he managed to stop him from giving the Sheriff a thrashing he so rightly deserved.

Misha can't understand why these two Alphas were so close; they acted like they were mated. They often would come to the rescue of the other; they would sometimes tend to or look as if they were taking care of the other, offering out open affection in public displays. It was ludicrous for two strong male Alphas to act like...queerknots...like they were boning one another on the side, keeping their sex life together a secret. It was shameful for two Alphas to be this tight in brotherhood, acting like ridiculous fools and no better than rowdy schoolboys. If he really wanted to stir up some trouble, he'd call them both out for their quirky Alpha-ness. 

One of them surely wasn't the Alpha he appeared to be; Misha had his money on Ackles. Padalecki's size alone was the epitome of what being an Alpha was supposed to be. Ackles--Jensen... _Jenny_ was too pretty and Misha had heard that there was a mysterious table always at the WereFamily Market, or so his mates let slip one day. The best pies, cakes and pastries every weekend; it was highly rumored to be owned or rented by Ackles, but there was no proof. Not even the usual freaky connection with the good-for-nothin' Wilcox-s.

Jared bumps his front to Jensen's side, lifting his right hand to cup and then rest his fingers along the nape; one finger scratches at the dried hairline. "Thanks, Jen."

"...yeah, thanks...thanks a lot, _Jenny_..." With one last, long, questioning gaze on the two strangely close Alphas, Misha shakes his head in shame. "--you two _disgust_ me..." He speaks through clenched teeth, then trounces off like his whole reason for puffing out his chest was deflated and denied him.

Jensen crosses arms, somewhat leaning back on Jared, not realizing he was _that_ close to him. "Sorry, man. Pick your battles, huh." He gently elbows him in the lower gut; it's a solid wall of muscle, unlike his own flabby belly.

Jared sighs, shaking his head as he watches Misha kiss and caress Genevieve. "I wanted to keep her safe so badly, Jen. She's so much better than _this_...than _**Collins**_." He doesn't show the fire blazing in his eyes to Jensen, but the Alpha already knows how passionate he is about protecting lower pack statuses in or around Bridgeton. It's what has made Jared the best Sheriff this tiny nowhere town has ever had.

"I know, dude..." Jensen slowly turns, his right hand moving to lay on Jared's chest, feeling the frantic heart beats calm down. "You're not gonna help her _now_. Unfortunately...or whatever, she's **his**. _He is her Alpha_. You know that, as an Alpha. He has a right to her because there's been things done that made it so." He lifts green eyes, dark curly lashes flitter and flutter. "I heard you, an' you're right. She won't matter in six months."

"I give it _two_." Jared juts out his chin in a slight verbal bet. "--maybe even less."

They share a smile between them, then Jared sighs, reaching out to pat Jensen's cheek. "Didja git anywhere with Clay?"

Jensen nods, crossing his arms again as he bows his chin to his chest; he's looking at his boot, watching the tip scuff the linoleum flooring. "Starling City."

It's a highly popular trailer park. It used to be littered with real RVs and motorhomes--Snowbirds and lackadaisical renters, then there was the 1970-1980s trailers and double-wides procuring small families and pack, newly mated and older mates alike. In the past six years, it has become a rather swanky trailer park, with modern mobile home units that have plenty of acreage of front-and back-yards. It was turned into a Senior Citizen park--55 and over. It's become its own little village, of sorts. They do allow younger guests, visitors who won't stay longer than a few months, but no kids under 12; they are only afforded a 24hr visitor pass but nothing longer, unless specially arranged with the manager of Starling City.

Jared takes a serious gulp and straightens his spine. "What's the address?"

"It's in the back of the lot." Jensen clears his throat. "I need to take the lead on this, Jay."

Jared shakes his head. "It's 'police' business, Jensen. I can't put you in harm's way." He now puts both hands on the sides of Jensen's neck, thumbs playing up and down the throat. "...god, I'm not puttin' you in the line of fire. You can stay in the truck."

"I... _can't_..." Jensen raises his head, showing watery eyes to Jared. He's just learned there are younger cubs living there, and an older naive Were. "...he's not livin' alone. There's...i-i-innocent family there, man..."

"Pups? Cubs?" Jared feels his facial muscles grow more tense and tight. Jesus Christ! His thumb pads are wiping away the tracks of wetness that have escaped.

"He's living with a gran'were, Jay...an' she takes care of little ones..."

Jared softens his voice, "--an' they have no idea he's back to dealin'?" At Jensen's nod, Jared brings him to his chest to hold and caress over his back. "...please tell me he's not cookin' with all of them there..." He senses Jensen burrow into him, and go tense. "...jesus christ...it's worse than I thought..."

"They don't know, man...he's too clever and cunning. They think he can do no wrong, that the law just looks upon Our Kind--white trash Weres--like we're born bad." Jensen rests his brow on Jared's shoulder, briefly, but then pushes off, wiping at his own face. "I'm sorry. I'm an emotional mess. Hell, what kinda Alpha am I that I can turn on the waterworks so easily?"

Jared surrounds his palms around Jensen's face, pressing lips to Jensen's temple as he tugs him closer to comfort. "The best kind of Alpha I've ever known." It's beginning to feel too good to want to hold Jensen, let him sink into his body. He's not aroused but his interest is piqued, like back when he first saw the Alpha and fell in love at first sight. "I'll get a few Deputies to go over and bring them to a neighbor's. I need them to be _not-there_ to investigate...because I'm about to tear up that trailer like I was looking for the Holy Grail."

Jensen understands; he nods his head in compliance. "He told me where to look. I know where he stashes in the house: money, the books, the drugs you're lookin' for. I even know where he's got his 'kitchen' set-up."

"Wow--whoa..." Jared is really impressed with how much Jensen got out of his cousin. "What _did_ you say to him?"

Jensen is impressed, himself, not fully aware of what had happened to Clay to make him confess all that much to him, but Jensen told Clay that he'd try to do enough for him on the outside, so they wouldn't be too heavy with him on the inside. "I don't know. I can't tell you why, but I think this time the running didn't help. He's not a young cub anymore. And, Reba...their cubs...everyone is exhausted, so tired that they're **done**. I don't believe he thought they'd ever give up on him, that he would always be able to come back, at any time, no matter what."

"Well, you know how it can be, Jen. You might not know what it's like to be his mate or his pup, but...you know something akin to what they've been going through."

"I don't know if this is the last he's got. He still has the debt, and probably has racked up more. He didn't tell me any names, though." Jensen is now able to look Jared directly in the face. "You didn't expect me to go _that_ deep, didja?"

"No, man." Jared cups the sides of Jensen's face, thumb playing over and under the bottom lip. "You did good. Possibly farther with him than he would've with me starin' him down in our interrogation room."

"He _likes_ you. He's always liked you. Says you're one of the _good_ ones." Jensen gives out a wide smile. "I don't usually find myself in agreement with Clay, but this time I have to, wholeheartedly. He's grateful for anything you can do for him, and even more thankful that you didn't make this a big stink like Atherton would've."

“I got 'im.”Jared shrugs one shoulder, curving the arm around Jensen's shoulders. "It's unfair to punish him more since he already knows what he's done and what he has to face once the Judge gets through with him." He's steering he and Jensen out of Stubbey's, with a small side-wave to Stubbey himself and the bartender as they make their way out. 

There's one last lingering sneer toward Misha, but then Jared loses interest quickly. He'll deal with that Alpha, and his business, later; it's like he knows he'll have another altercation with Misha, per usual, but right now his focus is elsewhere. For Jensen's sake.

**= = || || = =**

Jensen had tried to sit, and wait, in the green plastic chairs in the ER waiting room at Bridgeton General, but he had been out here long enough that now he was growing more worried and intensely concerned. He understood that he wasn't Jared's real Alpha, or his mate, that Jared was the Sheriff and he deserved his own privacy. But years of training himself to always come to his rescue, to always be the one who mended scrapes and tended to boo-boos on bare knees, hugging a tiny vulnerable pup under his arm--yeah, Jensen was a little upset to be forced out here to stand vigil.

They had waited until everyone was out of the house--everyone that they knew had been in there--and then they would go in, one behind the other. Jensen would lead the pursuit; Jared had given him a flack vest to wear for added protection since he was unarmed. Jensen had known which back bedroom to go into, where exactly the secret doorway in the closet was. It all had appeared cut and dried, like they would traipse right in and find everything they needed, every bit of proof to finalize the case and make it stick this time. 

What they didn't count on was the extra effort Clay's higher bosses would take in protecting his "kitchen", so when anyone not familiar with having to step over wires and not touching certain objects would walk into the room they would immediately learn of their grave mistake. Little idea that they, Jared and Jensen, would play an intricate part in being hurt or damaging all the evidence simply laying around. Once they had crawled through a cubby space coming out into an attached shed, each man had set-off trip wires, causing much of the fire damage that was still smoldering at this late hour. 

Jensen had tried to turn back, pushing Jared along with him to not enter the room, but the Sheriff had needed his evidential proof, so that Clay could either walk free or spend time in prison. Jared had put himself in harm's way in the process, deftly evading Jensen's hard shove against his chest wall to spin around and re-enter the shed--Clay's makeshift "kitchen" where he cooked. 

Jensen had been highly emotional and angry over Jared's actions, how he didn't think once about himself, just about getting the evidence toward Clay. It's why Jared is in an Emergency Room cubicle being tended to by two nurses and an on-call doctor. Jared had first-degree burns on his left hand, only on the top, severe smoke inhalation and there had been a slight scare that the "proof" Jared had dragged toward freedom with him had somehow brought him harm, in some manner. 

There was a jagged injection needle graze on the heel of Jared's right hand; they weren't sure if it was used or clean. Any other time, had Jared been focused and not thinking about making sure Jensen and Clay were kept safe, he would've worn his latex gloves while going to inspect a drug kitchen where all types of paraphernalia was spread around, just waiting to poke and prod through bare skin. Jared was fairly assured that the needles his hand brushed across were clean; they had looked empty and un-used, but he hadn't been too sure to be adamant. 

There had to be blood drawn for an HIV/AIDs test, par for the course when law enforcement came into contact with these kind of scary issues when put in the line of danger. Jared was now trying to rest and calm on the stretcher, having been given a mild sedative to combat some raised and rising emotions, most of them based around the shock and pain of being burned. He had seemed to be able to wave away all the other "little" things that he had faced. 

Not the case for Jensen, who hadn't seen or been able to touch Jared in the last hour or so. It's why he's up for the fourth time, and pacing back and fourth along the carpet like an expectant father to an encroaching birth of his litter. One fist is balled, slamming into the palm of the other; he's normally not some raging Alpha-were, spewing fire and venting frustrations, but he's coming to a sudden boiling point he never knew he had until today. Or maybe he had it all along and seeing Jared, just being unable to help and watching other Medic-Weres tend and touch him. Yes, he was mad-jealous and quite shaken at how much he didn't want anyone to care for Jared or even touch him intimately, even if it was in the form of medical, health reasons. 

He stops pacing once he notices the familiar face of one of the nurses who had taken the Sheriff back with her. She's pretty and curvy, with a bright smile, almost as tall as him. He's not drawn to her because of being a female or an attractive Were; he knows she has access to Jared and he wants to see him NOW.

Jensen puts out both hands, palms pushing down. "Please...I am not adverse to begging, but I have to see Ja-...Sheriff Padalecki..." He nearly goes light-headed when she loops her arm through one of his elbows and leads him across the carpeted floor toward the double-swinging doors to enter the ER hub.

"That's very good..." She leans in to Jensen, her smile somehow widening and going brighter--maybe because her teeth are so white and glistening. "--because he is climbing up the walls to see you. You are 'Jen', right?"

Jensen feels like he can finally relax and breathe. It's an answer to his prayers that not only is Jared awake but he's coherent and asking for _him_. "Yeah, I'm 'Jen'--Ackles. Jensen. Ackles." It feels weird to say his name like that in broken pauses.

She walks with him past a few closed-curtain cubicles where he can hear random chatter and laughter. She stops at a partially open curtain. "All right, this is you, where you get off. You can help him dress, if you like. I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes. Just pull the curtain back open once you're ready. The doctor will want to speak to you--" She pauses to clench a hand on Jensen's forearm. "You'll be his caretaker tonight, will you?"

Jensen smirks, lifting one side of his mouth high, making the cheek spread and indent. "Why yes, Ma'am...I am his caretaker anyway, for everything."

"Well..." She now pats him on the chest, almost dead center. "--now he'll be all yours for the next 24-48hrs. We're gonna want you to monitor his daily routine to his sleeping activity."

"uh, wha--? May I ask...why?" Jensen furrows his brow in deep perplexity.

The nurse turns her head just a certain tilted direction, as if Jensen should automatically "know" what she's talking about. "Well, the doctor will be more thorough, but in simpler terms, I can say that the Sheriff ingested a lot of smoke, not to mention the sample of the drug that had been cooked, then the ingredients that were separate to make the drug--" She narrows her gaze on him. "You were there with him, right? In the 'kitchen'?"

"Oh, you mean...did I inhale smoke, as well...and get the same internal injuries as Jared?"

"Well, I am a bit curious. The Sheriff being _who he is_ and you being _who you are_...they say this drug can be different for each who ingest it, and in the various ways Weres take them...some pill form...some tiny paper-thin jackets placed on the roof of the mouth or directly on the tongue...some liquid, either injected or eye-dropped under the tongue. There's also the powder form that can be liquefied, which brings out an even more intense enticement of higher bliss and heightened sense of arousal. Each Were is different; each pack status is different. No case is ever too alike, but there are similar instances."

"Are you saying I could have ingested some of this...drug?" Jensen folds his arms over his chest, hugging himself loosely. "I just thought it was susceptible to Omegas?"

The nurse goes quiet and stares thoughtfully at Jensen. "You've known the Sheriff all your life, huh?"

"yeah. We grew up together. Some say we raised one another."

"Tha's sweet." The nurse looks over her shoulders and behind her, as if she looking for someone watching her. "I know I have some close best friends, too, and I still have several secrets I keep to myself."

"Secrets? I'm not--Are you--? I'm confused. I don't know what you mean."

She gives out another smile, this one is more mysterious and though-provoking, like it has hidden meaning that Jensen should understand as an Alpha. "Apparently, Jensen, you're not as close to Sheriff Padalecki as you think." She opens the curtain wider, then spins on one shoe to turn and walk off in the direction of a distant nurse's station desk--a semi-circular contraption that's set in front of a huge wall.

Jensen stares hard after her, watching her retreat with a confused look to his face. "What does she mean by that?" He moves around to the edge of one side of the open curtain material, peering over at Jared. Or the bodily shape hidden under layers of white, starchy linens. 

All he can see is a mussed lump of dark brown hair, because Jared has rolled over on his right side, tucked and huddled into the raised side-railing. He's cuddling a long bodypillow, using the lower plushness to act as a "lift" for his left arm. It's wrapped in gauzes and bandaged tight, healing from the first-degree burns; the span of the bandage goes a little beyond the wrist, and Jared's four fingers are pinched together, leaving his thumb hanging free. Jensen instantly runs to Jared's bedside, where he combs back the wavy locks of brown so he can see the pale face. He's not ashamed of bending low to press his lips against the warm dry temple; he rests his face against the skin briefly, inhaling and soaking in the mere presence of Jared being alive and safe from harm, as of this minute. 

If the doctor hasn't prescribed it, Jensen is going to make Jared take at least 3days off; Jensen needs two of those days just to make sure his heart is back in his chest and beating again. He never wants to feel that way again, weak and vulnerable, unable to help or keep safe the most important soul he's ever been in contact with. He allows his hand to brush down the brown strands and tuck under the hairline to caress the nape; the back of the hospital gown is tied in three places, so he feels the knot of the first tie, then the soft naked skin of Jared's back. It's warm, almost heated and sensitized, because it arouses Jared to blink and open his lids--lids that want to droop like he's dopey and trippy.

"Jen? Man..." Jared's voice is scratchy and garbled, sounding like he's swallowed a bunch of gravel and trying to communicate.

"yeah, yeah, i's me, man...i's me..." Jensen places his face right in Jared's view; only one eye is visible as the right side of the face is plastered to the pillowcase. Fingers momentarily touch his back, along the curvature of the spine, but then Jensen's combing through the hair again, only because of the way Jared's head sits, the strands keep falling to hide the face and sometimes catch on his lips. "Hey, guy...you feelin' okay?" It's a stupid question to ask, but Jensen is curious to how Jared will respond; it will show him Jared's personality at the moment. 

"I'm good. Never been better." 

It's all said with heavy sarcasm, through a throat that cracks and garbles every syllable.

Jensen can only chuckle deeply, smile wide and bend again to kiss Jared's cheek this time. He'll place his cheek against Jared's to show him their typical mode of comfort. "Glad to hear that, Jay...an' if you ever do a shit-brained stunt like that again...I'll fuckin' drag you over my knee and spank you senseless." He gnaws tenderly at Jared's ear lobe, both lips over his front teeth, top and bottom, as more of a playful punishment that had always made Jared giggle as a pup and cub.

It's Jared's turn to chuckle, then he lifts a visible eyebrow. "Promise...pretty...please..." He tries to lift his hand, but it's his heavily bandaged one; he only wants to touch Jensen's face in intimate acknowledgement, to assure him he still cares and isn't upset, that he understands Jensen's own fears and frustrations at his ridiculous attempt at bravery. "...now you know why I'm Sheriff...I'm part _superhero_..."

Jensen can only envision Jared risking his life this crazily, time and time again, so selflessly and unabashedly looking out for everyone but himself. He buries his face in Jared's hair, trying to block out the sight of Jared going back into the fires. "--more like you're part feline...you must have nine lives, jay..." 

Jared's arm wearily raises and the bunched fingers can only rub under Jensen's jaw and chin, so Jensen helps him caress his face. "...you might be right, jen..." He gives a soft grin, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "...so tired, man."

"I know, I know." Jensen rises up to look through the open space of the curtain; he had never bothered to close it. He wasn't going to run over now and do so, not to leave Jared; he wasn't about to budge one inch. "We need to get you to sit up and re-dressed..."

"I can't--I'm gonna pay out of my ass for this visit...you mean I can't have this crappy gown to take home?" Jared teases as he begins to groan under-breath, pushing off from his right hand, which had its own tiny gauze-bandage secured from the dip between thumb and index finger, then circling the shape of the hand. He keeps inhaling, air sucking between clenched teeth.

"...what? you--you...all right?" Jensen wishes he could hold Jared and lift him up, carry him in his arms and out the front door. Every look of pain and agony on the pale, sallow face is breaking Jensen's heart.

"...everything hurts, is all." Jared lets a grin creep out over his face, laughing just lightly enough to mask the true hurt. It's even painful to breath too deeply; he feels a burn through his nostrils. He sends fingers to slope down his nose and squeeze the nostrils closed, because there was a stinging rush to his head that made him ache, like a cold-rush to the brain from a Slurpee. "--whoa...tha's new..." Jared shakes his head at all the different ways he was finding himself harmed, when all he had wanted to do was help. 

Sometimes it never paid to be kind or nice, especially to those who don't appreciate the helping-hand. When he sees Clay Wilcox, after Jared sleeps for 1,000years and maybe, takes a long, drawn-out soak in his bathtub, he's going to give that man a piece of his mind, with some parting shots that he's not allowed back in Bridgeton for a year. Not shunned or expunged, just banned for one year. Jared's not even considering the danger he and Jensen had been put in, but that Clay had put his own family within distance of a set-up like that in his drug-cooking kitchen.

Before he had been taken away to the hospital, Jared had made sure that the mobile home would be livable, after the small fires and explosions were abated. He had even told his Deputies that if the home was still in poor condition to go and rent-out an empty mobile unit, help the grandwere and whomever else lived with her to move their things temporarily, until further notice. Or he hopes this was conveyed because they had started administering an IV and medicines in the EMT van, while he stretched out on the gurney; Jared had been in and out of focus, trying to stay awake. Jensen had been so pissed at him for delaying their ride to the hospital, but Jared had a job to do and a community to keep safe; there was no way he'd just abandon Weres after the debacle he had created.

As Jared sits upright, off the side of the mattress, legs dangling to the floor, he moves his hands as if to grab the hem and pull the whole gown off, like a t-shirt; he's bare chested beneath. Except, Jensen's hands had gone to encircle his form, reaching behind to undo the first tie, and possibly the second; this was only because Jared had wires connecting, tubes criss-crossing, heart leads were monitoring. There was too much junk in the way to easily undress. They bumped heads and chests, chuckling at their buffoonery, and then Jared sighs, sitting still as his big hands grip the edge of the stretcher. Jensen steals an opportunity to begin his usual tending to Jared, starting by reaching behind to undo the strings.

Jared smells wood-smoked and raw, like Earthy musk, grass and leaves; it's a typical scent on him since he lives in the woods when not patrolling Bridgeton in his truck. Jensen feels some sense of shaking, a quivering of nearness, of being touched--warm skin on cool flesh. He opens his mouth to ask Jared if he's okay, but then he's realizing it's _him_ that's shaking, this tendency to quiver a little when he caresses over Jared's warmth, a hint of his odor wafting to him, through his flaring nostrils. Jensen is stunned that Jared isn't reacting, nor is he picking up on any cues from Jensen. Jared's pretty fuzzy at the moment, and he keeps his eyes shut, like he's half asleep in daydreams. This allows Jensen the freedom to look, to stare, to explore with his lingering gaze.

Jared's hair is brushed back from his high forehead; the strands around dangling down surrounding his elongated face, the darkening facial stubble matches perfectly with the tangled locks. Jensen can't bear to refuse to comb through the hair, cup the face and then just keep dabbing his lips in tiny kisses to Jared's flushed, moisture-sheen skin. He knows any activity Jared does is over-exertion, so he'll try to be quick about taking off the gown top and then finding Jared's plaid shirt to help him dress quickly. Once the material is pooling on Jared's lap, Jensen pulls the soft cotton off broad shoulders and down sinewy arms; they don't flex or bunch at all. Jared's form is just a huge pile of perfectly-formed beautiful goo; Jensen thinks Jared deserves another random peck of his mouth, just because his efforts are great, being weak and vulnerable, though he moves not one muscle.

Jensen spares a few side-glances to Jared's bare, hairy chest, noticing the pert dusky nipples hidden in the brown curls; he bets the chest hair is soft to touch, possibly silky smooth, like the skin. Jensen wants to bury his face between the breasts, rub his face, both cheeks, and then place his lips to naked flesh. Alphas be damned, but he wants to tug Jared close and burrow within. He wishes they transitioned more into their wolf-forms, like they did in their youth; just that chance to escape and play, to be cubs and forget being human and all the problems it entailed. Being pack was so much simpler, so much easier. Jensen is about to do another reach-around, but Jared shakes himself conscious and spins the gown so the rest of the ties are in front; he spends a stupid amount of seconds using his thin fingernails to pull at the knots. Jared looks like a drunk guy, trying to master a Ziplock bag; it's kind of funny and cute. Jensen swats Jared's hands away and does the job himself.

He moves away, pulling the gown with him as he walks over to where they threw Jared's shirt. "...fuck!" Jensen mutters, because he notices that several of the pearl buttons are gone, having been ripped from their sewn spots when the EMTs had begun chest compressions--yeah, it had been scary when Jared stopped breathing and nearly fainted on them. Holding the damaged shirt in his hands, he walks back over to Jared, who looks up at him with drooping lids; there's a slight look of apology on Jared's face, attempting to convey his own fears through his eyes to Jensen. The shirt is for the trash now; there's not really much they can do to save it, but the sight of the material brings back memories to both of them they would like to seer off from their minds, and their eyes.

From between the open curtain section, the doctor walks through, pulling over the rolling table; he'll use it for a desk as he finishes scribbling on Jared's chart. "How we doing, Sheriff?"

"Fine." Jared's one word answer sounds broken and warbled.

The doctor looks at him. "Sore throat, plus your sore lungs. You'll feel that for a few hours, possibly one or two days." He moves his hand around his own chest. "A tightening of your chest muscles. You feel any of that now?"

"...yeah, uh-huh..." Jared nods, not ashamed to be bare-chested still, with all the bells and whistles still hooked to him, doing something to him, or for him, while he maintains balance.

The doctor nods his head in understanding, giving out a hint of a grin. "--and probably from the chest compressions they gave you. You put our EMTs to work, Sheriff."

"Well...I try. Taxpayers money, ya know?" Jared jokes with a smirk lifting one end of his mouth. His arms cross, dangling down over his thighs. 

The doctor glances over, as if to see Jensen for the first time. "Is this your mate?" He hasn't worked in Bridgeton for too long; he has seen these two Weres together quite often. He's not going to assume, just ask kindly with respect.

"No..." Jensen squeaks out, still holding Jared's shirt as he simply stands and waits for the doctor to talk or ask more questions Jared can't answer too quickly.

Jared only shakes his head as he tries to swallow. He looks around for water and Jensen already goes into motion to pick up the glass with the straw coming out. Jared doesn't even hold it, just opens his lips to slurp while Jensen holds the cup. This action brings Jensen closer to bedside, leaning heavy on Jared's right knee; a hand carrying the shirt drops to the flattened thigh as the other hand keeps the cup lifted. "...thanks, jen..." He whispers out with a shaky smile. 

Jensen pats the thigh. "Anytime, you know that."

The doctor watches the short exchange, but doesn't respond to deny or confirm them not being mates; they are obviously close for two Weres. "Has it been explained to you all the injuries Mr. Padalecki has suffered?"

Jensen raises his eyes to see that the doctor is asking the question to him. "Wha--? Oh, yeah...somewhat, I think. But the nurse did say you might, uh...explain more or expound on something we may not have known. Or somethin' like that."

"Because I'll need him to be watched for 24-72hrs, and heavily monitored that first 24, until he's completely out of the woods."

Neither of them hear the irony in what the doctor says, since Jared "lives" in the woods; they're more concerned with why it's been bumped to 72hrs now.

"What?"

"Wait--what is wro--?" Jared fails to complete his question as he chokes on saliva or a cough.

Jensen drops the shirt, hand clamping Jared's shoulder to then head down the back to soothe and comfort as he offers out the cup for Jared to drink again. Jensen's brow is wrinkled with concern. "Has something shown up on the blood results, Doc?"

The doctor nods his head as he checks off boxes, flipping through papers clipped to the board. "We found heavy traces of the drug in Mr. Padalecki's system. It could be why he's more dopey-acting than he usual is, or never is." He clears his throat and turns to the exact page to look at the blood values. "Thankfully that injection needle WAS clean and empty, but with that whole entire space going up in flames, and from what we've been told of what happened by your own accounts...there are various ways you could've ingested this drug...we can't say definite which one, but it's enough to possible bring out a, uh... _adverse_ reaction."

Jared goes stiff and scarily quiet.

Jensen is a little more confused and wanting to puff out his chest. "It's a drug that _only_ effects Omegas, right? Then what's the deal with needin' to babysit Jared, Doc?"

"Uhm, well..." The doctor tilts his head, his gaze directly falling on Jared and his bowed dark head. WOW, so there is a secret still being kept between these two Weres. It's not the doctor's story to tell. "You're right, but...coupled with everything else, we just don't know if what he's taken in is too much or if it'll make him react within 24hrs."

Jensen lays the hand on Jared's shoulder. "He seems fine, now, but like you said...kind of loopy, but he's been given a lot of medicines, right?"

"yeah, yeah...you're correct. It could be a whole mess of things. We still need him to be closely monitored. Are you able to stay with him, or will I have to arrange for an observation room? It'll be free; he won't have to pay for a thing, if he ends up staying."

Jared is adamantly shaking his head. "--no, no...not stayin' here..." No way, no how. He'll die if he stays here, especially if Jensen has to leave after visiting hours are over.

Jensen is a bit startled by Jared's sudden refusal to accept medical attention. Jensen would profusely ask that he be permitted to stay with Jared; he wouldn't abandon him to a lonely night in a hospital room. But it's the fear and fright beginning to surface in Jared's usual warm and friendly gaze that causes him to pause and glance over at the doctor. "He has no other issues other than being monitored, right?"

The doctor nods his head, narrowing his own eyes on Jared once he heard the near-fear making the Sheriff's voice go high and low, sounding like a frightened pup. There was something very wrong, or very right happening, but it had nothing to do with him where he had to administer medicines to Mr. Padalecki. They could send him home with all the bandages and ointments, the pills and prescriptions needed to make it through the pain and heal. "A regimen of antibiotics, some pain meds in case he can't bear the agony. Most of what I'm sending him home with can be bought OTC. I'll be giving him a supply of gauze, bandages and creams for his burns and the scratch. Any future changes of his injuries you can find in any First Aid kit, or just go to a local drug store. Ask the Pharmacists, if you're seriously lost." He shrugs his shoulders, not sure what to make of the Sheriff's attitude that had just come on without provocation. Unless... "The Sheriff lives alone, Mr. Ackles?"

"Yes. Yes, he does. Why? He's got a small cabin up in the woods. Is it important he be closer to here? I could..." Jensen had a spare guestroom he could set-up for Jared, if the doctor wanted him near the hospital.

The doctor shakes his head; there's a mysterious smile wanting to creep out of his mouth. He thinks he now understands why his patient is about to freak-out and needs to go home as quickly as possible. He moves his gaze to where the plaid shirt had been dropped. "Hmm...seems we owe you a piece of clothing, Sheriff. About what size are you?"

Jared seems to be confused by what's been going on, the line of questioning and conversation has gone over his bent head. "What? I don't--"

Jensen sniffles out his snickering as he pats Jared's bare shoulder. "He takes anything in XL or bigger. But not too big. He's not fat, just tall an' broad." He bends low to pick up the discarded button-down, then peeks at the shirt-tag. It said 2-XL, but that was probably because it had buttons and sleeves. "Do you have, like, a backstock of Hanes t-shirts or something? It doesn't have to be an exact shirt to replace the one he lost." Jensen is not walking away without some repayment of Jared's clothing; he's the town Sheriff, for Christ's sake.

"I'm sure we can find something for the Sheriff in our Lost and Found boxes." The doctor notices the face Jensen makes as if disgusted by re-use of someone else's property. "Don't worry. We send them to our laundry room. They're clean."

"Oh, okay, well...can I--?" Jensen points toward the open curtain. "May I take a gander at the boxes myself? Do I just go to the nurse's counter and ask?"

The doctor furrows his brow in wonderment. This Alpha sure acts like he's mated to the Sheriff, or else they're so close and intimate they're denying the truth and that their relationship is purely platonic. It really shouldn't matter to him what goes on once they leave his care, but he is damn curious now because...the Sheriff is so big and burly, while the "friend" is somewhat shorter, big-boned and has one of the most striking faces he's ever seen on an Alpha. It simply goes to prove that not all Weres "fit" the same profile of their pack status. But he wonders if this Alpha even realizes that his best friend is an Omega.

Once Jensen is gone, after the doctor sent him on his merry way, Jared clears his throat. "He doesn't know, Doc, and I would very much like to keep it that way until he an' I are alone."

The doctor walks while pushing his table along with him. He's closer to bedside and he props a foot on one of the table's rolling legs to keep it stationary. "I'm not going to voice my opinion or anything, but...you do realize that this drug--as much as your blood levels suggest to us--you've ingested could bring about your heat. I just don't know how severely it will flourish and remain."

"I've seen an Omega influx of the drug. It won't be too bad, I don't think."

"Did they have their Alpha nearby to curb erratic tendencies?"

"No. They rehabbed on their own. The detox wasn't worse or better than their usual heat fevers." Jared alternates in raising and lowering his eyebrows. "Or at least they made claim to my face that it wasn't that awful." He tries to give out a disarming smile, hoping the doctor isn't really concerned about his welfare. Jared has kept Jensen in the dark about his status for this long, and had gone into several, smaller heats and heat fevers on his own in years past. He is pretty sure he can do this, if he can plan his moments out in a rational manner, so it doesn't look as if he's doing anything different.

"This...Alpha friend of yours...you can simply open up to him now, and he'll be capable of carrying you through a vicious attack, should the drug have a lingering effect. We fear we're only seeing you under full control, and that the drug hasn't had time to fester. Other medicines are in your system, but once they're gone..." He makes a gesture with his hand as if the drug might soon spread and course through his body.

"Then, that's a risk I have to take, but on my own, in my own dwelling. I have a place--a room of my own, where I go to. Where nobody knows I stay and fight it out."

The doctor frowns deeply, a bit worried and concerned. "You've always dealt with your heats on your own?"

Jared nods, swiping a bandaged hand over one side of his face. He feels like he could sleep for weeks. "Is it possible to have too much of a narcotic-like drug and feel so damn sleepy."

The doctor laughs outright. "Nah, I think this is your work ethic catching up with your exhaustion. I know you're a rare breed of Were, Sheriff. I know that even when off-duty, you still patrol the streets."

"This town doesn't sleep, Doc. Never. I'd be a fool to think it did. If there's quiet, there's trouble."

The doctor shakes his head. "How in the hell did you get here, being an Omega?"

Jared widens his eyes and puts a finger over his lips. "Please...it hasn't been that easy." He's humbled by the doctor's enthusiasm to understand how he's hidden his Omega-status for this long, and while having an Alpha connected to his hip for years.

The doctor spins the table around so he can sit beside Jared, keeping their discussion personal. "I'm serious, Sheriff. How have you not been spotted by every unmated Alpha in town? Or, how has no one suspected what you truly are, having been single for this long? Don't they think you have a life or are, at least, entitled to one?"

"I've never felt an overpowering urge to mate like other Weres. It's been this way since I was a pup. I didn't ask to be kept hidden, a secret, but I think my father and brother simply felt like protecting me once we lost Mom and the newborn."

"Your baby sister." The doctor nods as he recalls reading the Sheriff's past history in the chart. "She would've been an Omega, am I right?"

"Yeah. I think they got scared it was some kind of sickness in our family, our DNA. That somehow being an Omega meant a weakness, so they--my father and brother--toughened me up. It was easier since Jeff had befriended an Alpha...that was Jensen. But..."

"What?"

"I don't know. I can't say that Jensen is a typical Alpha, either. And that's not because he was born different, he was just raised with too much Alpha-ness and that deterred him from ever wanting to be the usual Alpha who dominates and plunders. He's never really wanted a mate, or I've never seen him sexually aroused by another pack status. He's just been...around, everywhere I was. Or, I could've been seeing it wrong, when it probably was me trailing him like a lovesick puppy." Jared deeply chuckles, shaking his head as he sighs heavy at the fond memories.

The doctor laughs in response. "Well, he's not turned off by your attentions, whatever they may be for him." He leans both elbows on the table surface, looking over at the Sheriff's bent head. "I don't know if you've ever heard this before, but, you two almost work like a pair. Like you're already mated, a couple. It's as it should be, you know...him being Alpha an' you bein'--"

Jensen pops in between the open curtain. "You ready to go, Jay!" He says it as loud as possible to interrupt the private conversation the doctor seemed to be trying to have with Jared; both of them were leaning toward the other, and it was looking a little too... _intimate_ for Jensen to bear watching and being excluded from.

Jared appears to perk up in attitude and manner, smiling wider and looking a little shy. It looks like Jensen has found him clothes to wear: a long-sleeve Henley and a similar plaid shirt but more like flannel material. It all looks warm and comfy; Jared can't wait to put it on and feel less chilly. He wears this kind of stuff around the cabin; sometimes he'll even sleep in them on cold, freezing nights outdoors. "Whatcha find?" 

The doctor moves out of the way, trying not to watch his patient and the attentive Alpha as they both get Jared to stand on two feet; Jensen uses his chest to let Jared lean back on him as they attempt to slip his bandaged hands through sleeves and then his head through the collar. The Henley fits perfectly, the bottom hem looking slightly mangled from normal wear-and-tear, so the hem just dangles over Jared's leather-belted waist. The flannel is used more like a light jacket, but goes nicely paired with the cream-colored Henley--warm dark browns and tans hues in the shirt's material. The ensemble darkens Jared's own brown hair and makes his pale skin look near-white. Jensen turns Jared around so that he can pull the flannel collar straight and untuck the ends of Jared's long mane.

"There." Jensen pats the upper chest. "Now you look handsome." He teases with a chuck under Jared's chin. Earlier he had swiped the truck's keys, letting Jared know he was driving home. "They gotta wheel you outta here in a chair. Hospital rules."

Jared smirks, hoping he's standing tall and not leaning to the side or backward since he feels like he has sea legs. "Oh, you know me, Jen, if there's rules to break I abide by them."

Jensen chuckles deeply as he watches the nurse roll over a wheelchair; it looks tiny but when Jared drops down in it, the chair suffices for its use. They pause a bit longer to get the doctor to read off the discharge instructions, but they're pretty much what had already been discussed. They put all of the pill bottles and bandage supplies in a plastic drawstring bag, with Jared's ruined shirt; he actually has plans for the leftover material to use around the cabin, since it's beyond repair as a "shirt". Both of them give a hearty handshake to the doctor and a small wave to the nurse, making their way past the closed cubicles and out the double doors.

The nurse crosses her arms and looks on their retreating forms with some interest. "If they weren't mated already, I doubt very much they'll make it through the next few days...unmated."

The doctor shrugs only one shoulder, doing his own staring and thinking. "They've denied one another for this long, I'm not sure an enhancement like this in Mr. Padalecki's heat will suffice as much of a incentive, nor will it arouse his friend, if he's not open and willing to mate."

The nurse lifts a curious eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? It's like they're mates already. All they needed was one little thing to increase their chances. I don't think Jared can keep his status hidden this time. And Jensen--well, he's been worried an' frettin' like a newborn's father since we wheeled Jared away behind the ER doors. He'll be on Jared for 24hrs like it's his damn job to take care of his...friend."

"Well, they're no longer our concern on that end, only if the Sheriff has an adverse reaction as an Omega. I just hope he lets Jensen know that he is one so that Jensen fully understands what's about to happen."

"You warned Jared and Jensen as much as you could. Since we won't be in that cabin, we should simply hope that natural abilities kick in and Alpha takes care of and tends to his Omega, as it always should be."

The doctor looks down at the nurse at his side. "You had dinner yet?"

"I took a break 'bout a half-hour ago. But no, I haven't had any substantial food since I shoved a piece of Angie's birthday cake down my throat at around eight."

"Then let me buy you a meal. My treat."

"Whatever you say, Doc."

**= = || || = =**

**TBC**...


	3. Chapter 3

** That Lonesome Sound  
chapter three **

Jensen had stopped at a red light, right arm resting on the middle console as he peeked over at Jared. The minute they had climbed into the truck cab, Jared had huddled into the corner of the passenger seat, wrapping both of his arms about himself as he leaned his head into the soft side of the truck lining, and appeared to have drifted off into mild slumber. For a little bit, Jensen allowed Jared his peace and quiet, getting into some semblance of tranquility after the fiasco of their evening progressed into twilight hours. Jensen was used to these late nights, but used to be alone, cooking a lone, pathetic meal for his evening supper and then sitting in front of his wide-screen television and vegging out until he fell asleep, only to get up around one or two in the morning to haul-ass to bed. A bed he was getting tired of climbing into, lonely and cold, no warmth of another body to keep him safe and comfortable, to feel protected even in the wee-small hours of the early morning.

It had seemed silly to him that he and Jared lived in different homes, in different parts of Bridgeton. For the past three-or-four years Jensen has wanted to ask Jared if they could find some place to share. Like a huge house, stuck in the same woods Jared lived in now, but tucked in from the road, nestled in-between tall redwoods. They'd share the public traffic areas, like kitchen, living room, dining room, but split floors, each having their own space, their own bedrooms and beds. He knew that Alphas could be territorial, so there was no doubt that Jared would want to keep living in the middle of the forest. But Jensen had been wanting to share dwelling space with someone he knew better than anyone in town, someone he could trust and respect. He doesn't know why they hadn't done this once Jared had gotten out of the Academy, but this _need_ Jared had to be on his own seemed to be more important. Jensen hadn't been about to insinuate himself where he may not be appreciated; he thought about giving Jared time, then maybe slowly approaching the idea later on. Maybe now was as good a time as any.

He likes hearing the soft snoring, which meant Jared was in a deeper sleep than usual, not that infernal cat-napping he did, while having the police scanner on, so he could catch any and all calls coming in. Like he had some idea the small world of Bridgeton would end if he would get seven to eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. If Jensen lived with him, he would make damn sure no one and nothing disturbed Jared, and he would keep the police scanner to Jared's truck or the den, where Jared made his small office, outside of the one he had at work. 

As he was letting these future endeavors ruminate in his mind, Jensen unconsciously allowed his hand to slip off the plushness of the console and slide down to land on Jared's left thigh. The warmth and radiating heat caused him to leave his hand there, for a brief time, but after a while, he started to soothe the inseam, in a swift up and down motion. Jared didn't wake, like Jensen thought he would; Jared made a feline-stretch of his body, tightening the space between his thighs and, thereby, trapping Jensen's fingers where they had stopped caressing. When Jared went back into his reclining, slumbering pose, the hand remained still and placed in a precarious position that would've woken anyone else up for being in the wrong place. Well, at least another Alpha would've felt that Jensen was being a little too handsy with his touch.

Jensen thought he was good, and now simply took the bulk of Jared's mid-thigh and finally shook him. "Hey...hey, man! Jay!"

Jared startled out of his slumber, using his elbow on the armrest attached to the door. "Hmm...what? Wha's wrong?"

"Come on. We got a few more minutes of drivin' before we go to my place an' then back to your cabin. Why don't you lay out here, along the bench. Put up the middle thing and just--I don't know...you can rest your head on my thigh or somethin'." Jensen clears his throat as he takes a quick look at Jared. "You just look fuckin' uncomfortable, man, tha's all. I don't know how you can sleep so deeply scrunched up like that against the cold, hard door."

Jared tries to sit upright, but he's slept in one position for so long, with his seat belt strap oddly around him, it's tough to make his body go one perfect direction. Plus, he feels about ready to pass out again, and sleep for a few days. "Are you sure, Jen? I don't wanna bother you. I know how you focus on driving an' don't let anything disrupt your concentration."

"Please. You won't bother me. I'm finding I'm more worried with you sittin' up, away from me and tilted in an awkward angle on that door."

"Yeah..." Jared sighs as he unbuckles himself from the strap, unwinding the belts. "--it'll be nice to be supine and not upright. I never realized how much this cab shakes and rattles. My front wheel alignment might need to be seen to, somethin's not right." He has no idea how low and rumbly his tone of voice is becoming, how it sounds to Jensen's ears like a sound used for more intimate, bedroom-like settings.

There's a tiny shiver that courses up Jensen's back before he lets out a deep snicker, shaking his head. "Only _you_ would find the time to be worried about something else besides yourself." He uses his free right hand to clean the cup slots out before he cranes the console backward to fit in its alloted space. "All right. That should do it, just stretch out this way an' lie on your back, or you can twist on your side an' put your feet that way." Jensen points toward the lower right of the footboard; he starts to lean toward the air/heat controls. "You too cold or too hot?"

"Nah, man...I'm good--good, promise." Jared starts to twist his body toward the back cushions as he cracks his back and rolls his shoulders. He scoots backward, and then back some more, until he can turn his head and see Jensen's right side and arm. He draws up his right leg, bending at the knee so he can fold it, pressing the front of the limb against the door, with the thigh flat to the cushion. With his left leg, he simply lets it bend and a foot is placed flat to the flooring. 

Every once and a while, Jared can actually bend his left knee and pull up his leg, but he will have to bend both knees and keep them at the same position as he can roll until he faces the back cushions. But he decides not to do that until he's had a chance to sleep on his back. Jared drops his head gently onto Jensen's right thigh, watching as Jensen lifts his right arm and will soon lay it across his upper chest, as an added-extra-bonus safety measure. Jared gives out a small grin to feel the strong forearm fit nicely against his body, then those thick nimble fingers curling about his left shoulder, sometimes sliding down his biceps to soothe him in sleep. It's certainly a good sensation to feel being touched and caressed as he falls back into slumber, which doesn't take long to do.

Reaching Jensen's place doesn't take but fifteen minutes. Jared's awake again and asks Jensen if he wants him to come inside to help. Jensen tells him he'll only be ten minutes; he won't pack but a few change of clothes. He knows that he could wear some of Jared's clothing, and Jared has kept some of his male pack members old clothes in several closets. Jensen won't have to run naked every other day. 

Jensen won't need much because he knows Jared's cabin is always well stocked and outfitted to be an oasis away from the modern world, and if they don't have it to eat, they can always use the nearby lake to fish and the woods to hunt for game and birds. They know how to live off the land they belong to; they've done it plenty of times in their growing years. When Jensen makes it back to the truck, opening the driver's door and throwing his duffel bag into the back of the truck bed, he tosses a small pillow and a fleece blanket to Jared. Jensen had even found time to grab a thermos of coffee; they both like it the same way, or maybe it's that neither of them mind drinking the coffee the way the other likes. 

Jared pulls back, sitting up for a few minutes with his new pillow at his left side, the blanket covering most of his body--his booted feet stick out--and he's slurping at the thermos lid full of warm, steaming coffee. Once Jensen is seated, then belted in, he hands over the cup for Jensen to take a drink; he's thirsty from running his ass off, trying to make good time while packing and trying to remember everything he wanted to grab on his way out his front door. Jensen hands the lid back to Jared who recaps the thermos and waits for Jensen to turn over the engine and begin driving so he knows the situation of how he can lay his head this time. 

Now that Jensen is back on the highway, swiftly cruising through town, Jared pounds on the pillow to lean against the meaty thigh; he attempts to settle on his back again, but the blanket is too short, so now he thinks he'll do that bending of both his knees, turning to face the back cushions. It works perfectly, and he likes this position, for some _weird_ reason, pushing his forehead into Jensen's body. He's still wearing the coveralls, still smells the same and feels the same, but there's an added, heightened sensation that Jared hasn't felt in a long while.

It's an old ache he used to agonized over that would somehow miraculously vanish once he was in the midst of Jensen's presence; he would call it his own personal "Jens-o-meter", which could tell him how much he needed Jensen that day. It would go away the more time he spent with Jensen, but then pick right back up hurting and aching on the nights Jensen would go back home. It was better over time, because Jensen would spend more and more of his life in Jeff and Jared's presence. No longer forced to take care of his cousins and cover for their problematic asses, Jensen started to build a life of his own, but he actually just went to Jeff and Jared more often, staying the night into morning. 

Jared never connected the phenomenon until right this minute, the fact that his pangs and urges staved off the more he was around Jensen. But, why didn't Jared feel anything like his heats? Why wasn't he fully aroused by Jensen's nearness, his scent or his very heat that would always be right by his side? Jared always thought that a true mate was so aroused by his Alpha that they would go crazy or mad with desire and only be satiated by the sexual fulfillment that Alpha mate could give. 

Jensen feels the heavy push of Jared's head again his pudge. "Hey..." He takes his right hand, sliding it across Jared's jawline and letting his fingers tangle in the dark silky locks, able to cup the back of the neck and the side; he lightly massages. "You okay? You need me to stop anywhere? Need to git out of the cab an' git some fresh air."

Jared shakes his head a little, then closes his eyes. Jensen's touch is comforting enough. "Nah, this...this is good--great, even. I think the coffee gave me a slight buzz." He laughs lightly, blowing air through his nostrils as he rubs his face against Jensen's belly and side. "I haven't been home in days, so, I need to apologize for the mess you might stumble upon."

"So...you live like a pig, like every other Alpha I know. Even me." Jensen sends his fingers higher on Jared's scalp; he can hear some soft noises Jared makes under his throat. "Do you like massages? Like on the back...shoulders, uh--whatnot?" He can't believe he's inching toward hitting on Jared with this line of questioning, but what he'll use as an answer is true; he won't be lying, just covering for the real truth.

"This head massage you're giving me without askin' is pretty cool. I could go to sleep just from this alone."

"You should let me wash your hair in the lake, let me trim the ends. You got some frizz, an' some fly-aways."

"Yes, Mom." Jared teases as he turns a bit upward to take a playful chomp off Jensen's arm. "I'm not a little cub anymore, Jen, you don't have to 'baby' me."

"It's not--" Jensen grows frustrated at being seen as "babying" or "coddling" Jared; he actually likes doing these little mundane daily things for Jared just because he's allowed to be near him or touch him. 

Before, when Jared had been a little pup or cub, it had been a given that an older Were would tend to the younger one, especially when it was Alpha to Alpha, brother to brother. Now, yeah, if it were happening in public, it would certainly be seen as suspicious and kind of interesting; most Alphas didn't mother or nurture the other when reaching a certain maturity. But Jensen and Jared's dynamic had always been lop-sided and almost equal, neither Alpha wishing to outdo, or out-man the other. They were safe in their oddities and safe in their commonalities. They got along better than other Weres and other Alphas; they even got along better than pack members in the same family. Jeff had eased out of their trio and Jensen and Jared just assumed their old companionship as if Jeff had never introduced them. Even Jeff found himself curious to their bond, often wondering if they'd ever break apart from the other to find a mate. 

Jensen wasn't about to push them to actually find someone else; they had too much of a good thing going already, why ruin it? "--just go back to sleep, Jay. I'll wake you when we're home."

Jared keeps his lids shut and his mouth closed; he knows he's upset Jensen, so he'll leave it alone. Better to simply let Jensen do what he felt like doing, without asking too many damn questions. If it felt so damn good, why take it away from himself? Sometimes, Jared was too curious for his own good. The head massage had paused for too long; Jared thought Jensen was so angry that he removed his fingers. But then the hand started moving again, the fingertips joining in and Jared went off to sleep with a tingling sensation billowing around his head and down his neck, settling about his broad shoulders. As he gradually drifted off, he wondered just what the rest of this night would bring forth, and if he was prepared for something monumental to happen that could change their lives forever.

**= = || || = =**

The second Jensen had locked the front and back doors, making certain to do a perimeter check that every window was secured, he felt he could finally relax and feel contented. He could feel this way because Jared was finally in his charge; Jensen could take over his care and pretend to relish being head Alpha of this duo. He has never wanted a real sense of domination and having this willing submissive under him like most pack of his status; Jensen simply wishes for control of the situation, of the environment surrounding them. 

Jared is his perfect foil, his near mirrored self as he doesn't mind indulging Jensen in the undercurrent of power; at least some of Jared's true Omega nature enjoyed surfacing--Jared willing to surrender to an Alpha, and it was all because Jensen's "Alpha" was a subdued-to-almost-nil prowess. The Alpha thrives off Omega's purity of self, not because of arousal or status; the same could be said for Omega pertaining to Alpha.

Jared doesn't mind Jensen's prowl of guarding him; it was not only a natural instinct for an Alpha, but Jensen's own personality toward Jared. Wherever Jared called "home" was often where Jensen dittoed the sentiment, but he was confident and assured everything was right in the world, stuck in their own private universe from that outside influence. Jared has allowed Jensen these quirks as long as he promised to take a long, luxurious bath, instead of one of his trademark slick-n-slap showers he typically did on his own, in his own place. Jared had taught Jensen about the finer, more kinder manners of giving in a bit to selfishness. Besides, Jensen was envious of Jared's bathtub, many times recalling the feel of those pulsating jets of water pelting his aching, sore muscles.

Jensen grabs his gear, almost flying through the lower floor of the cabin to the second bedroom he takes when he stays here. He likes the room for its simplicity, and even more because he knows it's the room Jared had when his Great Uncle Edgar had once lived in this cabin. Jensen still finds precious reminders of Jared's past occupancy, but more than that, he knows it's the essence of Jared that lingers and draws him closer. 

Now Jared uses the loft master suite above, since the cabin had been left to him after Edgar's passing--one of those old crotchety misers who had embraced a bachelor solitude and had spoken to cub Jensen and pup Jared what true mates and pure mating would be about. Not to mention how "okay" it was to stay unmated, but find a longtime companionship, still knowing a certain peace and happiness within the self.

Most in the Padalecki pack had shunned Edgar for his blatant refusal to find new mates, the unabashed way he had embraced staying unmated until he had passed away from natural causes, having 88 summers under him. Jensen and Jared had looked upon the older Alpha as their idol, a higher status who defied pack logic, paving his own way on his own journey. Pack and being part of a "family" was all relative and circumstance; being born into a pack was not what truly made one as the Were they were meant to be. One was never alone or lonely, that was a choice and a tradition you could break, if one wished. 

Edgar had lived the proper Alpha life, mated with one Beta and one Omega. He had lost one mate to a viral fever outbreak, the other in gestation, also losing a small litter of pups. Edgar had been a tough Alpha to mate; he had known traditional ways of pack were not for him. Duty to the Alpha brotherhood and honorbound to its code, just being part of a pack caused him to cave into ways that were not of his real nature. Life had a funny irony about itself, and not only placed a "period" at the end of Edgar's pack life, but stuck a large exclamation point, so his family would realize he hadn't been fibbing one bit.

Jensen snorts as he unpacks, taking out a towel and his shaving kit. He snags briefs, t-shirt and flannel lounge pants since he knows the night hours, and into early morning ones, were nixed in not being normal waking ones. He would, possibly, sleep until well-past noon the next day. It was lucky that he had switched schedules with another mechanic at the garage. At least he had a legit two days to give Jared, while holding out to call in sick for the third day; he would see about coughing up a lung or pissing out a kidney stone to stay alone with Jared for the full 72hr stretch.

Sitting down on the soft, springy mattress, Jensen bends over to undo boot strings, then leans back on the heels of both hands to toe-off the boots. Immediately, he stands to step out of the coveralls, down to sock, shorts and tank-t. He's surprisingly fit everywhere that counts, except for this damn belly-roll cropping up every time he sits or slouches. If only he had Jared's towering height, this flab would magically vanish. He doesn't know why he's so conscious of the extra flesh, other than this idea the slight weight gain somehow causes him to become ugly or un-mateable. 

Already, he knows what a "pretty face" on an Alpha has cost him, the reasons why he's alone, this close to turning thirty. But, strangely, he isn't that alone, and that's always been passable for him to bear. He's never needed all that Alpha-salivating-over-a-mate routine, the on-set of arousal just by scent or touch, the overwhelming power that renders Alphas useless and clingy once Beta or Omega go into heats, becoming feverish and inconsolable.

Living on the side of the tracks in Bridgeton he had, Jensen had born witness to enough poor excuses for Alphas, and what many packs considered a "good enough" mating. He had been the butt of his father's prejudice, and he had seen plenty of broken hearts, shattered minds and crushed souls, that he should be downright abhorrent of a single belief in love, this "one true mate" existing. Something in him keeps suffering, keeps hope alive that he can be close to finding something he's been searching for, longing for, as his sexual dormancy has sufficed for this long. He isn't restless, by any means, just eager to start living, to start feeling, to give a shit and offer his heart out selflessly.

The sounds of Jared moving around in the cabin's large country kitchen soothes him in ways he will never admit out loud. Both of them had walked into this dwelling unsettled, on this level of excitement only they understood. The world outside was shut out, and the public eye was no longer judging them unfairly. 

A towel over a shoulder, Jensen walks to the closet to open the door, catching sight of his reflection in the elongated mirror. He only came for the robe he knows he'll find, but he's struck by his own profile; not his face, but of his body. Squaring his broad shoulders and taking a deep inhale, he pets his hands down his false lean torso---man, he should start running in the morning with Jared again. Trouble was, Jared woke at the ass-crack of dawn and sometimes Jensen's wired state of insomnia would keep him jacked until three, maybe four in the morning. Jared would be awakening and Jensen would just be passing out or crashing right where he sat.

Jensen had truly given the regimen Jared followed the good college-try for a month; he hadn't lasted a full week. Jared had attempted to get him hooked on his hippie trail mixes and fruit smoothie diet, and Jensen simply wasn't worth spit if he didn't have a least ONE full cup of coffee a day. Jared had wanted him to go cold turkey, and Jensen almost strangled Jared with his bare hands. It had taken the rest of the leftover two weeks to detox from a strict, healthy intake back into Jensen's old quirky, not-so-healthy way---hence, this inability to loose those last ten-to-fifteen pounds that had chosen to settle on his body like an inner tube around his waist.

" _You're **not fat** , Jen_."

The voice hadn't startled Jensen out of his head, only caused him to release the held breath and deflate his sapped body.

Jared leans on the doorjamb, scratching at his face as he crosses arms as best he can. "You need to cash in your vacay-time, man, before the year's up an' gone."

“I don't need it, Jay. It's a waste on me. What would I do? Fuck! Where--exactly--would I go?"

Jared had a hint of a smirk on his face, shrugging one shoulder. "I don't know. I don't know what constitutes fun an' relaxation for you anymore. I used to know--hell, I used to be able to interpret your needs before _you_ even knew them." He drops his eyes as he pushes off the door, then deliberately watches his feet as he stands behind the open closet door. Jared rests his brow on the edge of the framework, contemplating Jensen and his response. "I used to be able to say you like fixin' cars an' bein' a mechanic--all that hands-on energy an' fire for DIY projects. I could even guarantee that you didn't mind livin' _here_ , the rest of your life." _In Bridgeton, with me,_ he solemnly averts his head, wishing he had the guts to speak out. 

Jensen frowns deep as he gradually lifts his head. "I don't know how me statin' I wanna pastry shop gives credence to some in-balance inside me, or that I'm in any way, shape or form unhappy here."

"You should see you through MY eyes, or maybe jus' walk in my shoes for a day, with my emotions and memories." Jared raises his chin high, almost looking down at defiant green eyes as Jensen's now in socked feet. "I've seen the light burn out of you more intensely these last few months. I know Clay didn't help reignite you. But I do think he actually brought out a firehose and doused you completely." He sees Jensen part lips as if to speak, but he reaches out with his lightly bandaged hand to cup a bare shoulder joint, then slides over bone to shape the neck. "Don't you dare look at me an' try to fabricate a proper reply that won't ruffle my fur."

Jensen sniffles out a soft snicker, dropping his chin. "I am happiest-- _here_ \--an' with you..."

Jared returns the smile but then dials the brightness back. "Tha's no way to live, dude. For--here, this place or the woods aroun' us. Or for someone else--ME." He shakes his head. "You're a lot more like Uncle Edgar than I, his own blood."

"Do you think I'm cowtied by _duty_ an'...some type of _loyalty_ to pack?"

"What I think doesn't matter. What is it you've wanted more than this life?" Jared steps backward, pulling away his touch as he places his arms--and hands--behind him. "You've got these hidden talents you won't let shine out of you, Jen. You think the idea of you in an apron, tied to a kitchen will un-man you, erasing the Alpha born in you, but you'd be wrong." God, he wishes he could dispel the myth, show Jensen how pack status meant diddley-squat. 

Jared was an Omega in a predominantly Alpha and Beta society, taking on a tantamount Alpha role as his career and being better than the last two Alphas, by some townfolks' standards. Albeit, he was disguised behind a protective shield, but Jared was doing it, living his dream. He was even satisfied with just this natural intimacy with Jensen. Granted his heats and accompanying fevers literally could tear at his core, the pure want and need festering, the urge to knot and be bred overwhelming, but days later, come morning, he was awashed clean of that deeper desire, able to move on and function normally as if nothing had occurred. 

Jared was resigned that this was his life, and he could cope. But what he couldn't cope with was Jensen looking sallow and pale, some days so tapped of life energy and inner glow, he simply wouldn't dare move. Anyone acting that drained was unnatural, unhealthy in ways unable to see by the naked eye. Jensen had been holding on by a mere thread for too long. This one tiny revelation of his was a colossal eye opener for Jared.

"You need to go."

Jensen twitches, nearly feeling wetness pool behind his eyes as small hairs rose in fear. Jared wasn't kicking him out, was he? Jensen shuts the door after tugging down the thick robe. "I told you, I'm not leavin' you alone. Not for the next 48 to 72hrs."

Jared lifts one side of his mouth. "Relax, man. 'Kay? I meant, you need to go on a vacation. Leave Bridgeton. Treat yourself." He then subtly sweeps in and settles an arm around Jensen's shoulders to guide him into the hall. "Like I do when I suggest you take a bath in my $1800 tub, instead of your drip-n-dry sinkbaths or quickie showers."

"Hey! At least I make sure I'm clean. Not like _some_ Alphas."

"I know. You're always impeccably groomed and highly conscious of the way you look an' scent to others." Jared tenderly pokes the pudge, making Jensen cringe and giggle lightly like he's being tickled. "So you're not washboard abs and svelte physique." He using the lone index finger exposed to lift up Jensen's chin. "You have a lot more in you, and about you, to offer an impending choice of mate. Haven't I always told you _this_?" Jared uses the curl of that index finger to brush along Jensen's flushed cheek.

"Yeah, but the offer of a 'pretty face' an' striking green eyes is just not my idea of what makes a good choice in Alpha."

"Yet you keep harpin' on this _one_ issue of your body, when you know you can lose, or decide to keep the weight--still doesn't change YOU, jus' your reaction to everybody aroun' you."

"I'm not--interested, you know. I never have been. I can't say why I don't have that want or desire to mate or knot. I'm not disgusted by the act, nor am I shamed by being naked--" Jensen pauses in his steps as Jared sidles in front of him, bandaged hands heavy on his shoulders. Jared scrunches his frame to make sure he catches Jensen's gaze. "jesus...I'm doin' it again, huh? My neurosis pours outta me an' I start preachin' to the choir."

"Hey! I don't mind the constant lecturing. Your honesty floors me. I just wish you could turn this back on yourself. I'm not askin' you to suddenly become 'Alpha'--full blood. What I'd like you to do is be a little more selfish, for once. Stop livin' for others, suffering in their shadows. It'd be much saner if you weren't kin to the Wilcox boys, 'cuz it'd be a different ball game had you remained a true Ackles. You'd have blood siblings to dote on and live for. Instead of this kind of pack who continually drains you of a will to live."

Jensen is immediately on the defensive but he knows he hasn't been "alive" for quite a good while. "I'm not depressed. I'm not completely destitute, seein' no end but death." He clears his throat, shaking his head. "m'not lyin' when I say, bein' _here_ with you just--not only do I _feel_ different, but I can _see_ the world through a different pair of eyes."

Jared cups the neck, hands moving to lock at the nape. He leans in, brow to brow, stepping closer so there is little distance between their chests. Instinctively, Jensen keeps head bowed, prepared to nudge or nuzzle, if needed, or wanted; he lets hands reach out at a low range to lock in and hold onto belt loops in denim. 

Jared had taken off the flannel shirt and his boots, just leaving Henley on, sleeves pulled to elbows, and jeans still belted. "I wouldn't want anybody here, other than you. I trust you with my life. Sometimes I think--"...-- _I'd die for you_ , but Jared keeps lips shut tight from confessing.

“--I know. Me, too.” Jensen raises hands to grapple at the shirt hem. "Some days, you're the sole reason for me rollin' outta bed..."

It's a series of gradual nudges of faces and heads, noses poking against skin, and sounds of light laughter, then just as Jensen opens fingers to move his hands, Jared stretches in such a way that the tattered bottom hem of the Henley pulls high, exposing bare belly, radiating volcanic body heat. Bare hands touch bare flesh and, oddly, blunt nails embed as fingers curl. The nudges turn into wanting to burrow and huddle inward: one exhaling a long-held breath as the other swoops in and takes parting lips.

Jared finishes lifting his arms, locking the circle of them around Jensen's neck, pulling chest to chest as he allows Jensen to kiss him in a slow, aching breathlessness. He senses the push of a tongue, wet and wild, wanting entrance, then the fingernails claw up his ribcage to settle under his protruding nipples. He tears his head aside, dislodging mouths to catch some air. Now, mouth and tongue are on stretch of exposed neck. "What-? I, uh--wha--?...what is _this_? jen...?" It's as if the trigger has been pulled, the switch had been flipped on as hands went to sculpt his curved back, then turned to sink downward, pulling at heavy denim material, cupping to squeeze his quivering ass cheeks. "This is--wha--whoa...god-damn..."

Jensen's tongue is active on Jared, and he's lapping at the throat and collar bone like Jared was a delicious morsel. Jensen has no rhyme or reason to why he makes his "move". It's the wrong moment with the worst timing, and possibly an awful way to initiate what he feels, but he's sure it's because he had almost lost Jared tonight, and he hadn't even begun to taste those lips like a lover might have. "I'm sorry. Must look like I'm cavin' to baser needs an'--"

"Yeah, you've never--not once. Not in front of me, anyway."

Jensen manages to draw backward, both hands gripping Jared's biceps like HE had been the one doing the forceful kissing. "Jesus--I'm--I-I-I-I'm sorry--I _stink_..."

Jared takes this to mean a self-chastisement on character. "Oh, God! No-no! Jen...no, man, no..." The less bandaged hand tries to press flat to Jensen's chest-wall.

This time Jensen slides his hands down to elbows, pinning Jared to a wall's flat surface. "No, Jay!" He exhales a short, light laugh, mimicking sniffling his own armpits. "I can feel the garage odors jus' oozing offa me."

Jared feels a heightened sensation--almost wanton, wildly quixotic and submissive, as he's held against the hardwood paneling. He sucks in his bottom lip, teeth scraping as he pops the skin back out. "Ah! haha...yeah!." He nervously laughs, trying to smile but he feels this tangle in his gut starting to loosen. 

It had been the kiss, the ease of affection. It's the subtle Alpha's dominance and Jared behaves; he isn't even fathoming he could be on his way to becoming powerless because of ingesting that drug. He flips his hands to the wall, then tucks them so can sit on their tops to keep from wanting to touch and grab, pull or shove. It's weird that he can split in two in that very moment as he calmly watches Jensen pull away, then wander up the open structure of the staircase to the loft master suite. 

Jared can't remember what Jensen had said or how he had gotten to the top landing, looking down on him to give a short wave. He returns the smile, forgoing the wave as he closes his eyes, bowing his head, chin to chest. He can hear the soft pads of Jensen's feet, then the sliding open of the main door into the bathroom, in seconds there's a rushing sound of water through the pipes in the ceiling. Jensen is preparing the tub for a long soak, as recommended by Jared.

Jared is thinking it's safe now, opening one eye as he begins to deep breathe. He feels the temperature rise in the open room, knowing full well it's more internal combustible heat than external, and it has everything to do with Jensen. 

That _kiss_ , those _lips_ , that _delving tongue_ , the clanging of front teeth coupled with the feel of hands on bare flesh as nails had gently pawed, grappling skin instead of fabric. 

Jared exhales out a tortured groan as he crosses arms, grabbing for the hem of the Henley and attempts to start pacing to cool off his overheating body; he can sense his scalp actually sweating, the roots of his dark locks dampening every ticking second more. He knows his face must be totally flushed with red tinge, because his cheeks feel on fire.

Jared retraces steps down the short hall where there's more spare rooms and the bathroom they all share. It's a small bath: a toilet, a pedestal sink, and a cubicle shower. Jared opens the fog glass door, steps over the tile lip and straddles over the huge drain in the tiled flooring as one hand braces on the wall, the other turning the faucet knob to freezing cold. Of course he squeaks out a mumbled groan; he doesn't know what else to do as he feels like he's grown icky and moist between his crack and it's all running down his inner thighs. He feels his bottom flexing, the inner muscles of his rectum preparing to throb and pulsate, then influx to orgasm and release slick and more lubrication to pave the way for an Alpha's knotted cock. Jared has never had such a quick on-set of a release without a lingering heat-fever. Usually, he's so in control of his body he has time to prepare; this...is extremely the opposite of typical for him. 

Both bandaged hands become soaked through as Jared leans heavy on the wall, crossing his arms over his head as he senses the rising arousal overcome his system, his breathing is labored and heart beat erratic, he holds in his lungs at the moment he feels the contraction the eventual opening of his womb commences as he oozes slick, lube and quite possibly a random ovum. Who the hell knew what was going on with his body now. Thank god he's down here, and Jensen is up... _there_.

Drained of half his new-found energy, Jared shuts off the showerhead just as he collapses along the tiled wall, listening to the droplets taper off and the spiraling of shower-water down the center drain. He snatches the towel off the metal rack, covering his damp, dripping head in mild shame. At least he knows the time intervals in between his pangs will allow him motion, from room to room, possibly to go from one floor up to the next. 

Something _different_ is taking over him that separates this moment from other heats, and he needs to find a quick, safe place to get his mind off his body, briefly, so he can focus in figuring out this mystery with a clear head. A brain that wants to whisper to him, " _Alpha, sweet, Alpha...he's here...he's close-by...just give in and let him take you...your Alpha is waiting for you..._ "

But the final decision is not as easy as marching up those loft steps and joining Jensen in the bathtub. It appears to be just that simple, more like a first step, but it truly isn't.

Jared has normal trepidation toward giving over to Jensen, just because of his whole demeanor to companionships, and true mates, into sex and knotting. It isn't a straightforward conversation to have since Jensen had no clue to Jared being an Omega. Now, Jared has to learn Jensen may not be set in the life of garage mechanic, restoring cars or building 'cycles...in Bridgeton. The idea of being so fertile for first-mating, and compatible with Jensen upon knotting, there's no way Jared would foolishly tie down his only family and close confident, if he had plans to run. Jared doesn't know if it's a permanent or a passing feeling unmated Alphas felt; he knows he can't ruin what he has, filling the relationship with negative emotions that could cause a rift between them.

With the towel around his neck and shoulders, Jared steps into the guest bedroom Jensen uses for his stay here. His gaze goes to the coveralls, socks and boots on the floor at bedside. But in the short amount of time Jensen had been there, his scent and heat had permeated, lingering, his very essence soaking in every pore of Jared's body. He feels the rise of another pang; he needs to get the wet clothes off. How he manages with his sore stitched hand and the aching burned one, he will never know, but he's full disrobed, pacing over to the pile of clothes, dragging out the coveralls. 

Jared brings the denim-like material to his nostrils, burying his face away in pure Alpha scent--HIS Alpha's very odors. His pain hitches slightly, time enough for him to climb onto the bed, entangling the thick fabric between his naked thighs so the roughness and the cutting zipper-teeth brush around and along his cock and balls. He can't help, as he lays down on the squeaky-spring mattress, that he rolls and rubs aimlessly around this _single_ piece of clothing-- like it's Jensen, himself. The fabric is coated in Jensen's pureness, every drop of sweat and cologne was caked everywhere. Jared smiles because he's always known that anything of Jensen's becomes a calming additive to his heat fevers, sometimes even tapering him off to cool temperatures. The pain is there, but faint, distant, except now Jared knows what will come next once the agony alleviates.

His body and mind think Alpha is near. 

Assuming the ill-fated position as he sets Jensen's coveralls beneath him, Jared climbs to hands and knees, bottom sticking outward. As the inner contractions of his Omega body work normally, he prepares outside his body, so he pushes face and upper torso into the mattress, thereby, face-planting fully in the coveralls. Moving his knees apart so his quivering thighs almost touch the bed, the wide spread of his crease and now his slickening, messy hole are on display; the slick and lube he had released earlier slide down between his pulled-apart cheeks to drip and splat to the material of the coveralls. 

With ass raised in offering, Jared starts to move backward against an invisible Alpha, onto an imaginary knotted cock as he works to clenching and unclenching his muscles. He buries his face between the pillows even though this action is an old routine of his to play-out; he usually does this in the privacy of his own special room. Doing this out in the normal view of the cabin means that his secret can be learned at any time, by anyone, but once begun, his climaxing to orgasm cannot be stopped.

By the time he had come, orgasming at least half-a-dozen times, split between his cock leaking and his canal oozing, Jared is drenched in sweat, his crack covered in his own releases and still draining down his thighs. His hips ache, as do his thighs, and his ass and cheeks are sore from so much repetitive motion. He uses the towel to clean off, then grabs all the dirty clothes he can find to hide the stains he had doused on Jensen's coveralls. Although exhausted and sleepy, almost listless on his feet, Jared is able to walk upright on the little energy boost such an intense series of sexual releases had given him. He's curious to what can be taking Jensen so long upstairs.

Once he puts the pile in a basket near the washer and dryer combo, niched in a corner of the kitchen, Jared looks for a less moist, yet still not-so-fresh towel, securing the cloth around his waist. His cock and ass are red-raw, or, at least, a dusky pink tinge; he wants no sign of his self-pleasuring he had to be visible to the plain eye--to Jensen's eye, that is. His lower limbs are made of Jello as he attempts to wander over to the lower landing of the spiral stairs; he will have to use the railing, for sure, as he takes two steps at a time to reach the top. The master suite doesn't look much different from when Edgar lived here, almost 10 summers ago. Jared adores the old-school ways of country living, stuck in his loft bedroom in a far-tucked-away cabin. There's a butt-load of dark to semi-dark pines, both in the built-in cabinetry work and also the free-form furniture. Jared often swears it was handcrafted by Weres, possibly even Edgar's own hands because it had a certain personal touch that resonated with him, and Jensen, too.

There's a level floorplan that gives Jared an open living space, where he can sit and hibernate or watch television--the TV monitor being hidden in the wall unit. It takes several footsteps until a raised level of the main bedroom, stuck under the higher roof-line that encloses the space in a bit of privacy, almost like a personal nook or nest. The bed is custom-made, much larger than a King-size; it's flat, yet pillowy, settling lower to the hardwood flooring as if to be somewhat on the floor. The mattress and box spring both are in-set into the framework. Right now, it's unmade and sheets are wrinkled and pulled haphazardly as if to denote sleep-patterns. Being Weres to their core, werefolk tend to like using fur pelts on their beds for extra warmth. Those, along with a normal comforter, lay atop the bed. Jared takes the two shallow stairs to land on the bedroom floor, then moseys on over to the bathroom.

The door to the master suite bath is situated between a dresser and a closet; it's an entire slab of beveled woods shaped to look sculpted and antiquated, but it slides back and forth on small pellet rollers at the top and bottom of the doorway. The door is partly open, but no sounds come from inside. Jared decides to forgo cleaning up his bedroom, and making his bed, for tiptoeing into the bathroom and surprising Jensen, who could possibly be just-now easing out of the tub, drying himself off.

But such is not the case as the door moves rather silently, allowing Jared to step over the threshold and wander into the room. This was an area Jared had managed to update in the past years of ownership; intimate indulgences he had been giving himself to help him through his heat and fevers caused him to renovate the older bathroom, and buying a Jacuzzi bathtub that could rival any hot tub on the market. Actually, one end of the master bath was half-sunken, allowing for a custom-built Jacuzzi bathing area; it mimicked an old world Omega scene of their bathing rooms, where sunken pools, about 3-4ft deep, were created with mosaic tiles and had sunken bench-seating around the circumference. 

Jared had spent a summer abroad--probably his most painful time apart from Jensen, and his pack, of course. They had planned ahead that when Jared reached first maturity, at 13 summers, he would go out to live in the Old World, with his Polish were-ancestors; his Omega extended family had taught him some coping tricks for alleviating pains and agonizing fevers, which led him to believe he wasn't the first Padalecki Omega to carry on a life of deception. 

To Jared's immediate right is an enclosed toilet, with a privacy door to shut and lock; to Jared's immediate left is a full-sized tiled shower cubicle, almost similar to the one downstairs, but different tiles to match the sharper Mediterranean colors throughout the design. It also boasts a large rainfall showerhead, and there are random benches jutting out of the marble wall. Since it's a master suite, meant to be built for two--a mated couple--there are single sinks on either side. One set-up as if to be akin to a vanity, with accompanying straight-back chair, the other side is more masculine. 

Funny thing is Jared tends to use _both_ sides as his Omega and pretend-Alpha sides war with one another. At the far end of the room, facing out onto the woods and lake, is the sunken tub--one side has a set of steps in order to get up to the flat circumference where one can sit, lounge and relax to enjoy the night sky or the view of the trees through wood-paneled floor-to-ceiling windows. It's a gorgeous view without the added naked body in the bathtub, but something about Jensen being the one in there and him facing out, with his back to Jared, adds the little nuance of romance and sensual intimacy he's beginning to feel.

Ever since that damn knock-out kiss downstairs. 

Jared knows he has begun his heat, his fevers in fluctuation, so there's a semblance of wishing to continue with that forceful roughness, but then, also, there's that latent desire he always carries to tend to and take care of Jensen. It'll be a challenge for him to simply merge the two and hope one doesn't try to dominate the other inside of him where he makes Jensen think anything is odd or strange about himself. He keeps the towel around his waist as he walks over to the back of the dark head. 

Jensen is seriously in a Chad-Murray-chillax mode, with his huge biceps drawn out of the steaming water, curled up behind him on the porcelain ledge, his head somehow pillowed on a rolled towel. Jared can sense that Jensen could be asleep as the head tilts to one side and there's soft breathing puffing out in spurts as if lightly snoring. The jets are at their lowest setting, so there's a soft whirring sound and a layer of subtle bubbles floating around. There's barely a coating of suds at the top waterline, with two thick kneecaps poking out, showing that Jensen's legs are still bent; once he falls into deeper slumber, those legs might fall lower, unbending. 

"Jensen?" Jared calls out with a hard edge to his tone, but Jensen doesn't even flinch nor is there movement in the water. "JEN!" He tries a bit louder, but still, to no avail, does there come an awakening, of sorts. Jensen seems to be just at the cusp of deeper sleep, where he could be shaken to wake, but...why? what for? 

As he nears the raised area of the tub, he can easily sit down and either scoot toward Jensen's head or lean on his left elbow. That's out of the question, since it's his worst injured hand, so he flips to sit on his right side. There a simple gauze pad over the needle-scratch, though he's removed the soaked bandaged the nurse had wound around his limb; his fingers are free to move about; he lightly combs through the moistened strands, pushing them back from Jensen's flushed, steam-drenched skin. Jensen still hasn't woken, not even flinching to acknowledge he's close to a waking point.

This is a perfect opportunity for Jared to use his Omega natural abilities and simply slide under the water, grab the sponge bathing mitts and begin washing his Alpha down, hoping his actions are just soothing to bring to a more unconscious and dreamlike state. He won't be jumping Jensen's bones, even if he does have another orgasm, but, in some odd way, because he's here with Jensen, able to scent, touch and feel him, all that heat and feverish tendency has drifted away.

But not for too long.

 

**= = || || = =**

**TBC**...


	4. Chapter 4

** That Lonesome Sound  
chapter four **

Jensen was a terrible, no-good, awful person. He didn't know how he'd done it, or how he was able to slow his system down so it appeared as if he was sleeping. He had known the minute Jared had climbed off the last step on the staircase, even with the smell of the expensive bubble-bath beads he had used, the steam clouding the air to mask heat and the overall scent of himself, he could pick Jared's arrival from several feet away. He can't believe Jared is actually falling for his pretend slumber, because he knows Jared recalls the games they had played as cubs, when in their were-forms. Jensen would "pretend" and Jared would creep closer, sniffing him out, and then Jensen would gradually slow his heart, his pulse, blood flow, everything would lower to such a degree where Jensen would appear unconscious. The closer Jared would come, the more Jensen would try not to scare too badly, before he'd rise like the dead and pounce on poor, unsuspecting Jared. It's was a silly-ass trick he learned in order to avoid nasty confrontations, both in his own pack, The Ackles, and his new one, The Wilcox-s. Jensen had thought Jared perfected the ability to feel him out in this foolish pretense of his, but something else had to be going on to distract Jared.

Jensen wished he had opened his eyes, because now he had to keep them closed, as he eventually would come out of that pretend unconscious haze. But then he feels the long, nimble fingertips filter through his hair, touching his cheek, his brow, his temple; hands are moving his overlong hair on his neck to expose the elongated column. Jensen wonders what's about to happen, and then he senses a pelting of hot breath come closer; it's Jared, and he's nuzzling his ear, nudging Jensen's head with his own face, barely skimming wet lips across heated flesh. Jensen figures he's got several decisions to make, but only one will make this moment that much better. He isn't sure how long he can keep his eyes closed and feign sleeping, because he knows he could be in for a bath from Jared. Even though he's washed himself, on his own, Jensen is certain that Jared is here for one purpose only, to help wash him as he soaks in the steam, heated water and allows the pulsating jets to massage him. Before he initiates his first motion, he'll await Jared's next move.

It's a heightened moment of patience, one Jensen never thought he'd self-contain, and then there's an overwhelming scent of arousal, permeating off Jared, letting him know that there's a symbiotic rush of a similar emotion that has settled dormant in Jensen--for far too long. Two powerful hands run flush with his chest down below the waterline, and Jared tilts his head into the side of Jensen's. Jensen doesn't know how he keeps his cool, waiting for Jared to make another subtle move. Those hands, their fingers, they sculpt and mold around every inch and curve of his naked, slippery skin, then he senses the slight turn of Jared's head, so the face is perpendicular to his temple, cheek and jawline. 

There's a quaint nip to his ear lobe, and then a bit of whispered words, "I know you're not fully asleep, nor are you completely awake."

Thankfully, this allows Jensen to open his eyes half-way; low-lidded and playing at being drowsy, he extends his muscled arms forward, watching them float above the water, flicking suds away. "I'm stuck in that dreamy hazy bit before full sleep--yeah, but no, no...I'm nowhere near fully awake either." It's just to show his own intentions are meant to be close to intimate, possibly more physical than before. He could work off his feelings about that kiss they had shared a few minutes ago; he knows Jared felt something, too, as there is no doubt in his way of thinking that they almost share a like-mind in all things. He hopes he's not over-stepping any boundaries, but then the way Jared's hands are sliding over his torso there's little to no doubt left. Jared dips low to the waistline, but goes no further, but he dares as he massages the bulging sides; it's the love-handles Jensen deplores, but right now--the way Jared attends to them and gives the extra skin attention--it becomes his "hot button" of awakening whatever's been lain sleeping inside his body sexually.

"--fuck, jay..." Jensen gives a light chuckle as he shifts and scoots, pulling off the slanted lip of the bathing tub he had been resting on to attempt to sit forward. This makes Jared stay still, letting his arms now droop and dangle, then fall down the curved back as Jensen leans toward his bent knees; his weakened, Jello-filled arms cross and fold, laying atop the rounded joints.

Jared assumes this is too much for Jensen to take all at once, so he clears his throat and moves to sit in the old spot Jensen just vacated, but drops his feet into the water. If Jensen wishes, he can lean backward and be cradled between Jared's lower calves. Jared finds one spongey mitten, placing it over his single-gauze-bandaged hand--the one that had some tender spots of first-degree chaffing stays uncovered; he gives the mitten a good dunking, then lets the water dribble off one edge before he starts to wash Jensen's arched back. He still has the towel draped around his waist, although it won't take a few minutes to be just as nude as Jensen is. Once he tells Jensen what he's prepared to do, then he'll consider losing the towel, sending it sailing over the bathing area to the tiled flooring.

One hand cupping the bare shoulder joint, Jared begins the scrubbing action, putting pressure in sore spots that he knows are Jensen's problem areas. "I'm not scared, Jen...not about you or what could be between us if we finally give in." He takes a rushed swallow, then flicks at the dark blond hair. "I felt it, too...downstairs, when you kissed me, an' yes, I'm pretty sure I kiss'd you back." Jared gives a light laugh, hoping Jensen returns the favor; he does and he does so with the turn of his head to glance over his right shoulder, where Jared isn't holding. Jared leans so elbows are deeply grooved into knees and upper lower thighs; he's positioned perfectly to pull Jensen backward against him, if he decided to sink under the water and fully take Jensen's place. That would make Jensen recline on his bare chest, and Jared's comfortable with controlling the moment as it ebbs and flows between them. He still senses a little fear and, possibly, shock from Jensen, who still believes they're both Alphas, and this little intimacy is taboo.

Jensen certainly feels some hesitation, but it's more for the unknown than knowing that with Jared, he could probably find the lifelong mate he's supposed to have found years ago. Here, alone, amongst themselves he's unafraid of pursuit, but he isn't too sure of what unleashing the animalistic side of him might do, in accordance with unmasking Jared's own feral emotions that have been quelled the same length of time. Two Alphas, battling the line of seduction and trying to be cordial and tenderly intimate, seems almost a joke that no one wants to laugh at, especially Jensen. He tucks his right arm under Jared's right leg, tugging to show he wants him down in the water with him, closer to him, behind him at this moment in time; he needs to feel him skin-to-skin, breath-to-aching-breath to finally know how this thing will begin, and, hopefully, never end.

Jared smirks, untucking the fabric of the towel to expose himself briefly before he sinks under the water; he snickers at the feel of the steaming liquid, then the instant oily lubrication inside the water of those old decorative bath salts that Jensen had used. It's a blessing in disguise that will hide his own slick and lubrication, if he should release while in the tub. For a bit, they sit separately, Jensen still bent over his knees pulled to his chest, so Jared can wash and scrub his back, but once that huge expanse is clean, the only thing to do next is to start work on the other parts--like the flexing arms, or, maybe the front of the chest, if Jensen will lean backward. Now that Jared is in the perfect position, Jensen still hasn't shown he's able to advance too far from where he already is, so Jared will acquiesce and go about his business until Jensen makes his next move.

Jensen is grateful for Jared's cooperation and intense patience; if he's feeling half as riled as Jensen is, then there's hidden strengths in Jared he hasn't seen yet. It would be so easy to just scoot backward, lay down on Jared's massively wide torso and simply succumb to baser needs, but the worry, and sincere concern, for him is what if he does let go, and Jared let's go the same, then who remains in control? 

Usually, when the coupling, or mating of Weres is happening, there's at least _one side_ who can maintain the equilibrium. Alpha to Omega, the Omega is the balm, the soother and will mold themselves to whatever their superior mate wishes, maintaining the heart of the unified souls, while the Alpha tries to tear into his new mate to show ownership and dominance. Alpha to Beta, the Beta keeps the calm and becomes the initiator, holding the mind-meld of the two as one, as the Alpha tries to become the superior of the dual confident statuses. Alpha to Alpha? This is quite puzzling to Jensen as he must never hurt nor harm Jared; he made a secret promise to himself years ago that he must not break, even if Jared begged it of him.

"Jay, I--" Jensen wants to turn and face Jared. There's something he has kept to himself that he had always wanted to share; this seemed like as good a time as any.

"--ssshhh..." Gone is the sponge-mitt, now it's only Jared's bare hand. Instead of one, he has both, and he's sending the wide palms along Jensen's shoulders and a little down his flexing biceps, motioning out a bit of tugging, here and there, for him to pull back. They can talk just as easily if he settles and shuts his eyes, allowing the moment to spin whichever way it wishes, even if one of them takes a grander step forward. "What's got you so wound up, huh? If it's me, I'm fine. In fact, I'm better than fine an' I know you'd worry 'bout me far more than yourself...which circles back ta me an'--well, I think you git my drift."

Jensen releases a deep chuckle, unable to stop the wide smile from disappearing from his face, because he's not confident in a moment like this, nor is he comfortable in his own skin. He'd be so much better if he could shift into his wolf-form, so much better if he could simply lay with Jared, somewhere out in the woods and just be together. They didn't have to be...mated; he didn't expect to be knotted nor did he want to knot Jared. That is...unless Jared wished to be--this, Jensen did not know. He needed Jared to be just as he was--so perfect and simplistic...just "Jared". Not the Sheriff, or brother Alpha, nor even his best friend's little brother. He wanted Jared as his own--that strange sensual creature who sometimes curled into him and huddle close for warmth. Whatever was in him that made Jared, so tall and so god-damn huge, mold into this burrowing, tender being who couldn't move an inch out of Jensen's reach.

Jensen sloshes through water, like he's treading over waves, finally resting back, but he droops to one side, on the right, turning his head to the side so he can rest his cheek on Jared's shoulder bone. He doesn't know why he's so scared, so frightened of an intimate moment like this that might become intensely physical. He kind of feels woozy, a bit faint, he may even feel a little nauseated. It's the tiny secrets he holds close: the feelings, the deep affections and the one truth he's hidden from every other Alpha, even Jeff and Jared. It's tough to keep this single truth hidden within, but it will be such a relief to finally let it go free; he just has to find the perfect moment to let it go.

The minute he has Jensen in his arms, Jared grasps the sponge-mitt again and he gently washes the exposed side of Jensen's face, down the neck to collar bone, only paying attention to the left side of the bare body he can see. His right arm bends slowly, curling under Jensen's cheek and jaw to give him a semi-pillow to rest his head on. Jared presses a tiny kiss to the back of Jensen's head. "You're always such a worrier...a caring, concerned worrier--you mother as if you were born to nurture, Jen."

"I know." Jensen's hand comes up, out of the water, dripping and covered in light suds to curl about Jared's forearm. "I'm the negative slide of an Alpha. It pains me to even be called one; I'm a poor excuse."

Jared chuckles lightly, shaking his head as he leans into Jensen. "No. You are the prime example of what all Alphas should emulate. You've yet to come into your prime. You're still young and vital, full of vigor and latent power. One day...you will come into your righteous pack status an' show how deserving you are to carry the name."

Jensen swivels, knocking Jared's jaw slightly, but it turns into a few seconds of nudging to nuzzle. "With a mate like you by my side, I feel I could conquer the whole world."

"How 'bout tryin' just to conquer _this_ one." Jared deeply snickers, sliding his face against Jensen's, loving the rough feel of stubble against his own cheek.

"Wh--what...d-d-do you mean?" Jensen watches as Jared sloops down beneath the water and entangles his left arm around and around Jensen's left arm until their wrists merge and, at first, Jared's palm covers the top of Jensen's hand, but then in a show of subservience, Jared dips his hand below Jensen's palm, lifting fingers up to tuck between Jensen's fingers, then curling them closed into his palm. Why does it feel so right to be held like this by another Alpha? He's often wondered if he was misinformed of his real pack status. Jensen has always been the antithesis of his higher status, the troubled, introspective Alpha who never wanted to "join in" and procure a rightful place of dominance above another. Of course he felt protective and demonstrative when pushed into a corner, certainly when it came to family, or to Jeff and Jared. But that one single mate was as elusive as his own identity; some days he didn't even know who he should be with Jared, he simply wanted to be with him.

Jared arches his backward, pushing his front pelvic bone into Jensen's lower back; the curvature of spine to ample bottom fit too perfectly. He feels the flexing of the glutenous muscles, the twinges of a growing sexual need that another can fulfill. It's interesting that Jared doesn't use it as a means to dominate; he absorbs it in as just a future aspect of Jensen that they could explore one day, in the privacy of their own dwelling, maybe even their own mating bed. 

Tonight, or in the next few hours, he knows the eventual big reveal will occur; there's no stopping it from surfacing, if Jared can't control and self-contain in front of Jensen. There's ways to hide even in plain sight, but he isn't sure he wants this mystery to linger any longer, and he could possibly consider mating with his best friend and secret love as the night wore into early morning hours. He's becoming a little choked up to watch Jensen hug his forearms to his own body, then eye the manner which he takes to kiss and lick at the different burn-marks and that instant need Jensen has to fix his hurts and boo-boos. These were too adult, severely scarring and long-lasting; they could've been the end of Jared Tristan Padalecki and Jensen had had no means to pull Jared back from the brink. Jared buries his face in Jensen's hair, allowing him to give out those sentimental licks and small tongue-lappings--something Jensen would've done as the older wolf to the younger wolf cub. The sound of subtle whimpering under Jensen's throat sends Jared into a tizzy.

"--sshhh...sshhh..." How he manages to slowly flip Jensen to his front--now they're chest to chest--Jared will never know, but he immediately begins to comfort with his own cry under-breath. A throaty-sound only for Jensen that was both the salve and the rendering needed to offer solace. "I'm here...ssshhh...I am here, jen..." It's a little disarming to feel Jensen burrow away in his neck to sniffle and nudge, nipping at hard, yet fleshy parts to still be playful and attentive despite the over-emotive state. He embraces Jensen tighter to his body, arms curled about as if locked. "--let it out...let it go...you're safe here, brother..."

Only with Jared can Jensen be this overly emotional, even with Jeff it had been a bit stilted since Jensen was supposed to be the higher status to a Beta. This is why the strange intimacy exists between them, and still remains intact; Jared takes every bit of nonsensical, whimsical bullshit Jensen gives out. Well, Jensen thinks it's all bullshit because he thinks it lessens his strength as an Alpha, or a perfect mate. No one wants a pussified Alpha, but Jared's never seen Jensen this way. This side of Jensen only makes Jared love, and want, him more.

Still whimpering under his labored breathes, Jensen slides a hand to the left side of Jared's neck as he pulls out of the niched crevice he made for himself and slithers a cheek along Jared's jaw to press his mouth on skin, feeling the rough patches. His lips move, closer and closer, to Jared's own parting mouth, who seems to still speak out words of comfort. With one intake of air, Jensen surfaces higher, using his thumb pad to tip Jared's head back onto the tub ledge, then his mouth begins to gently nip until he's too crooked over the face beneath. Jared's lightly chuckling, spurting bursts of air through flaring nostrils at Jensen's foolishness, but then it becomes a brief moment of ferocity.

Now, two hands are cupping the sides of Jared's neck and Jensen holds him stiff as he starts to kiss--harder and more rough than before. His breathing is frantic, heart erratic and he feels the heady rush of Alpha-ness he's supposed to feel but it vanishes as soon as it overtook him. He rests awkwardly over Jared, out of breath and slightly high with giggle-fits. "I don' know wha--sorry...I'm not--"

The buoyancy of the water keeps making Jensen rise and fall, brush and sway over Jared's front, down his abdominals and over his groin area. His hands can actually hold along Jensen's rib-cage, so he stays him as he bobs. "It's okay, man...it's really okay...who better to do this kinda shit with than me, huh?" 

"I don' know, Jay--I really don' know how to, uh..." Jensen lifts up one side of his mouth in a tiny smirk. "I've thought 'bout this moment for years...wonderin' which way this would fall in the exact moment, but I--"

Jared closes his lids, smiling broadly as he nudges Jensen's face and collar above him. "Who will BE the Alpha-dominant?" He releases the hold he had on Jensen and is now painting the backs and fronts of his fingers along flanks and down the slopes of the arching back, never once touching the spinal column or even venturing to the lumbar area, nor tailbone. Jared isn't sure why he's hesitating, but there's just something misleading about taking an initiative toward touching Jensen without some kind of advance invitation or at least a subtle clue to what he wishes to happen; the guesswork seems harder when the recipient feels like he's about to bolt out of the water. Something peculiar about Jensen is lending an idea of thought that this kind of moment--such a physical intimate moment--hasn't been a typical repertoire of Jensen's. A normal, healthy, mate-able and arousable Alpha has a sexual expertise that far surpasses lower pack statuses, and Jensen has never claimed to be a "normal" Alpha by any right.

"I-i-it's okay to grab my a--...my ass." Jensen takes a hard swallow on that word. It's scary to lay himself open this raw and vulnerable for the taking, and though it feels safe, it gives off an awkward quality that's almost painful, and he doesn't want this kind of a moment to be ruined by his stupid, silly hang-ups.

Jared knows what Jensen wants him to do once the word is out; he had sensed the thighs bulge, the stomach flutter, able to see the globes of the ass protruding out of the water that flex and tense. Jensen is nervous and growing even more so as he's less and less sure of his own sexual positioning. "--wan' me to spread you open..." He's testing Jensen, to see if he's of the right submissive mind to take on the role of a less dominant pack member. "--wan' me to finger you 'til you come?"

Jensen wants Jared's hands over him--all over him, but he's unsure about the...penetration part. He's always heard Jared's voice in a hushed tone, but never in this tonal shift where it's geared toward turning him on or pushing him over an edge. Rather than hands around Jared's neck, Jensen fiercely latches onto the tub rim behind the dark head. "y-y-yes...yeah--yes...please." He closes his eyes as he gradually lifts his right leg higher, meaning to hook around hip, waist or high on leg; his foot drags up along Jared's own leg, letting toenails snag on coarse, dark hairs.

Securing one arm about Jensen from around his back, Jared pushes off the porcelain slant, then manhandles Jensen to land on his back, beneath him. Jensen lets out a noise of startled shock, then this low groan rumbles inside his belly to have been taken so callously and treated like some...lower creature. He almost struggles to shift away from Jared, not sure he likes being out of control like this and made to be somewhat clueless about anyone's next move.

Before he can be smacked in the face, Jared shoves off the wall of the tub and floats backward, a tiny grin ghosting his lips. "Don't offer yourself like that to me, Jen, unless it's something you actually WANT!" It's a little shocking to have been thought of as the dominant one who could've done harm, the way Jensen had reacted to being rolled and forced to lie beneath him.

Jensen immediately sits up, both hands swiping down his face to clear off water and sweat, to simply see clearer toward Jared. He hates how far away Jared is to him, like he feared his reaction, but then again, he had acted awful prissy for begging to be finger-fucked. THIS was why he hated to complicate the relationship or the bond with too much confusion. Jensen didn't know exactly how to initiate mating with another Alpha, because he just didn't know if he could BE that submissive, even with Jared. And it wasn't a matter of trust but one of maintaining control so he wouldn't be powerless or out-of-control; he felt the same way about Jared, and he knew Jared had to be thinking the same things. He opens his mouth to apologize but nothing comes out expect little aggressive noises that make it appear like he's perturbed or put-off.

"Tell me what you want."

"I don't know what I want--that's the problem."

"Then tell me what you expect."

"I want--" Jensen releases a heaving sigh, dropping his arms in the water in exasperation, causing the sides of the tub to slosh over on to the flatter, smooth surface of marble. "I want this part to be overwith because I DO want to be with you--" He shakes his head as he wipes across his forehead. "I've wanted that so badly, Jay...so badly sometimes I can't sleep most nights." Jensen can't bear to lift his head; he's so ashamed.

If Jensen had raised his head he would've seen the smile spreading over parting lips. "Think you're the only one who feels like that, Jen?"

That question brings Jensen's head up. "What?"

"You think you're alone--hell, you always think you're alone an' you never are...an' you never hafta be." Jared extends out one hand, fingers flicking on the water surface. "--come here...come to me..." He continues to wiggle them as if it's a game they play.

Jensen stares dumbfounded a second or two more than he should have at that damned, infernal arm that he knows will always reach out for him, and he shakes his head to refuse. It's like his jaw's broken and he can't close his mouth; his joints are getting stiffer and causing him to tense even more. "No." Using his index finger and his own extended arm, he tells Jared exactly what he wants. "No! You!--Come here!" At first it's a movement of the head and chin raised, then soon it's the actual pointing and lifting of one lone eyebrow that silently commands Jared to follow an order.

Though he smiles, Jared bows chin to chest to show submission, but it's exactly what he wished would happen--the rightful Alpha taking his command of his Omega. The tub-floor isn't too far under him, and Jared actually maneuvers his body around so he can float-walk on his hands effortlessly toward Jensen, but he doesn't give over too easily as he still wants to keep a certain control of his own. As his hands come closer to Jensen's feet below surface, now the fingers clench and he uses Jensen's body parts to float-climb to his final destination. Hands are grabbing at the dreaded love-handles, but before Jensen can shuffle and knock Jared away, the dark brown head dips underwater; Jared keeps his mouth shut to suck in a held breath so that once he begins to kiss up along the bare torso, the second he gets back into fresh air, he won't be taking a gulp of water.

Jensen is almost done-in as Jared calmly floats above him, and once those lips attach to his skin, he arches his head back and seems to push his body toward Jared's face, like he wants more attention, like he deserves the attention being given. Jared hands are creeping up ahead, before he arrives; Jensen simply slides them away, because now he just needs Jared to be evenly faced with him, resting chest on chest. He sinks a little to help make the effort rush forward, then just as he goes to cup the sides of Jared's neck against, fingers meaning to slat into dark slick-back hairs, he surrounds his arms about Jared's neck, almost interlocking his arms, tucking away his hands.

"Don' move..."

"--wha--?" Jared is a little mushed by Jensen's intense squeeze of his head, but he's used to it.

Jensen takes a breath, burrowing his face fully away, but then resurfaces to simply lean on Jared's head. "I have a confession." He feels Jared inch his arms around him, hands gently patting at his upper back as if to soothe.

"I know. I know. It's all right."

"No...it's not--it's not anything like you'd think, I swear." Jensen laughs lightly, closing his eyes.

Jared's concerned by how long Jensen pauses. "It's okay, you know you can tell me anything."

Somehow, someway, having Jared this close to him calms him, makes him less tense, though he's still stressed out. He knows Jared will never expect this kind of a truth from him. Just feeling Jared's hands pet down his back allows him to clear his mind and open up. "I've been with...others--sexually. That's not my confession, though..." He takes another breath and loosens his hold, but still keeps his head leaning on Jared's. "--my confession is that I'm not as experienced as other Alphas." He realizes that's not the right way to say what he means, so he tries again. "I've never--I've fucked--you know...with my...cock an' all--" Jensen knows it's too embarrassing to word properly; he clamps a hand on Jared's shoulder, then gently eases him back so he can turn slightly and they can connect eyes. "It's easy to fuck an' release semen--fuck an' come to release some type of pleasure sexually, but it's just never--" He shakes his head to deny he ever fully became fulfilled nor did he enjoy himself all that much. "I'm not proud of what I did, of what I did with the peer pressure from Jeff, then--I don't know..." He gives a small shrug of nonchalance. 

It's slowly dawning on Jared what Jensen means to admit to, and it's becoming the reason another smile is growing on his lips. "Have you ever knotted, Jen?"

The painful silence and bowed head is answer enough.

Jensen averts his head, staring down to releases tufts of air. "Tol' you I was the poorest excuse for a--"

It's the still-bandaged right hand that slides over and tucks under to stick fingers in Jensen's hair and drag him close and tilt the head back so green eyes alight in some feral manner at being trapped and well-caught. But soon the forceful tugs and yanks turn into tender nudges and a long nuzzle from Jared's entire face into the side of Jensen's head. "Stop...talkin' 'bout yourself like that..."

"--'m'sorry" Jensen is nudging and nuzzling back. 

"It hurts me to see you inflict pain on yourself."

"--m'sorry--m'sorry" If apologies won't appease, Jensen knows of only one more way to upend Jared's frustrations. He swoops in and takes the smirking mouth again--small nibbles as he flicks his tongue over the lips, licking and softly biting. "It's not a turn-off?"

"It's never mattered to me who or what has had you before, because I always know...you come back to me..."

"--jesus christ..." Jensen knows how right Jared's words are; it's like a life preserver or an inflated raft in a stormy sea. "I will. I always will." He brings his arms around, palms cupping the entire shape of Jared's head; he doesn't even know where his fingers go, but he's keeping Jared's lips under his and he's munching and lapping, in between the rough kisses. 

They float together toward the slant of the tub, each on a bunched forearm to balance themselves. Jared is the one to draw away first, needing to catch some air, but he face-plants slowly once he finds a minute to regroup his equilibrium. Jensen watches Jared fall over, his face almost dipping into his right shoulder. Jensen makes a pillow to Jared and then follows suit to rest his cheek on top of Jared's wet hair; he twists every so often to peck a kiss on the exposed nape and neck.

"This is an overwhelming moment for us both."

"--yeah, but I think I'm feeling a definite 'buzz' from that--" Jared senses a slow rise to arousal, but he manages to sustain it, maintain an even-ness that won't confess his own truth. This just doesn't feel right for a bigger reveal than Jensen's secret.

Jensen ignores the reference to just mere hours ago at the hospital; it's something he does when he no longer wishes to talk about a topic. "Lie down on your stomach, or face me. I'll wash you." He goes in search of the single sponge-mitt Jared had used, but then remembers seeing another in the distance. "It's your turn to get spiffy an' clean."

Jared knows there is no way he'll lie in such a way for Jensen to have access to his backside, so he settles on his back, placing his head on that rolled pillow off the tub rim. Trouble is, Jensen says he'll "wash" Jared, then he very well will do exactly that--there will be no extracurricular touching or caresses out of context. And the next trouble is, this is a perfect reason for arousing Jared--this, being tended to and taken care of. Call it being "babied" or "coddled" as a late 20-something year old, but it sends him into quiet fits on the inside to be given such tenderness, shown such a loving affection just by simply being himself. It's part of Jensen's nature to take care of him and make sure he's clean, so who is going to call Jared crazy for denying Jensen the right to his quirks?

Jared isn't even aware that he drifted off to take a smidge of a nap, while being cleaned; Jensen never disturbed him, knowing how much sleep and being restful was important to recovery. What had been worrying him, most of all, was trying to denote some type of delayed side-effect to the various inhalations of the drug he had ingested, the one that was easily susceptible to Omegas, each reaction being different and the intensity of Jared's side-effects could be varied since he had taken in the medicinal blend several different ways. There was probably some residual crystallizing pieces embedded in his nostrils from the inhalation of the fire's smoke, when the drug was burning and wafting his way, without him realizing it--it had been more important for him to drag out the evidence more than concern himself with his own welfare. That's just how he worked--as Sheriff and as a member of his own wolf pack. What was the worth in doling out feelings and emotions if you didn't think more of your brothers and sisters, your patch-worked family of were-folk and humans? And what did it show of the self if you only thought so singularly? 

Jared roused himself to find the tub water emptying and he had been left alone. He shoots up in a small fright, because he fears he's been like this for a while and Jensen might have seen--but then he can hear the shower going behind him. Jensen is doing his usual form of washing and cleaning when he's pressed for time; although with the kind of massive elegant shower stall Jared has, he knows Jensen is probably abusing the usage for once, indulging in extravagance because it's available and he has that kind of leisure time. He's slow to climb out of the tub, grabbing the new towel Jensen must have made reachable for him once the porcelain had been fully emptied. Jared comes out on the right, sliding legs over so he can sit and dangle down over the small steps; he can view the naked body inside the steaming cubicle, all he's able to visualize is the sinewy shape of a tall, svelte muscular Alpha. Those perfect mounds of ass, those long thick thighs to slight flexing calves.

Yes, of course there's a little portliness around the middle; maybe the upper chest isn't as custom-defined by constant weight-lifting done by some gym-bunny Alphas looking to score only with looks and physical features to attract a mate. But it's what Jared has loved about Jensen since he was a burgeoning pup into cub years; those defining moments that still to this day shape and mold his mind into looking at Jensen with fresh eyes and newfound glory. Jensen is never the same, all the time; he changes his frame and looks just as much as he glooms and broods, looking as if he'd rather be alone than share in anyone's company. Jensen is friendly when it counts; he doesn't shy away from customers at work or that occasional minute of the daily routine where you bump into other Weres or you see a friendly face from the past. He's not an asshole, he's just...picky about who he shows his real self to. He's even taken to not really being as truthful to Jeff, lately, ever since he gained mates and took on his own pack.

Jared feels a little sorrow over that loss for Jensen, because he knew it wasn't replaced by anything new and breathtaking. He had been attempting to make up for the missing moments, trying to "be Jeff" when he knew Jensen actually needed that close confident and constant brother-rivalry and support. It hurt Jared to watch Jensen witness Jeff's eternal happiness in his new bonds of mating; he knew how happy Jensen was for Jeff, except where he tended to feel jealous--or was it agonizing envy?--because Jeff could put away that boyhood were-cub need to be free and dissolving that need to never be attached to anything to hold him down and keep him from being true king. Jared had known that once Jensen found that mate, it would be a few years before he could ever face Jensen again; this is why remaining an "Alpha" pained and grieved him so badly, because he was consciously aware of what he was giving up for not giving in and letting Jensen inside to his secret life.

Watching him now, Jared aches more because his conscience is warring even more intensely than ever. It's a fifty-fifty risk, in his mind, because he could either bring Jensen even closer or push him away for good, if he doesn't reveal himself in the right fashion. Better to lose Jensen now? Or wait a few more years when that new Beta or Omega shows up that truly does turn Jensen's head and makes him take notice? Jensen says a lot of things, but does he really know what will happen in the future? Man, he doesn't even know what's about to happen in the next few hours that will eventually change both of their lives for the good, or the bad.

Jensen was being a chickenshit; maybe he was foolish to keep up this reserved, introverted manner where he always kept that long-arm of distance between he and Jared. But he knew it made Jared feel safer with him because there was no fear of being pounced on or some kind of sexual frustration being taken out on him. In a way, Jensen wasn't even going to allow himself the simple satisfaction of looking down out that naked body once the water and suds had totally disappeared, so, like a silly joker, he'd bolted out of the tub, as if chased to the shower. Once he was safely behind shadowed glass and fog from steam, he knew he could comfortably wash his skin of all that froo-frooey mess that felt weighted on his body. And he could finally scrub at his hair follicles and really get to the roots of every strand; not to mention this intense mode of showering gave his fingernail beds a chance to be entirely void of engine oils and greases.

At some point, he understood Jared would wake and rise, possibly come out of the tub--nude or with the towel he had put out for him--but he didn't want to even see a patch of skin. Well, he hoped Jared was so used to his luxurious baths that he just walked right past the shower cubicle and didn't bother Jensen. A little piece inside of him wished for something different, that Jared would throw caution to the wind and take a fruitless chance, but he had momentarily forgotten about his puny meltdown of almost clawing and slapping at Jared just because he flipped him and looked to be taking a top position above. Thing about Jared was, no one ever fooled him twice in a row; Jared would simply leave him alone, but there would be some awkward moments, some possible staring or furtive glances where Jared would make sure Jensen was all right, from a good distance, but never come any closer.

The bathing was a small apology, the tenderness given was the other part; Jensen was aware he would have to be some kind of an initiator for any advancement of their intimacy, or they would just stalemate and do what they normally do, even slipping under the same sheets and comforter and sleeping in the same vicinity. The homemade bed was so huge they could occupy their own spaces and never once touch or even accidentally touch. 

Jensen is momentarily spooked as he watches out of the periphery that Jared is making his way past or he'll pause at the doorway and move in such a way as to convey in hand signals what he's going to do. He actually fears that Jared will pull a fast one on him and walk right up to the shower door to get a lecherous peek at what he must look like fully drenched and dripping wet from head-to-toe. He keeps finger-combing back his cut locks, making certain he's not blinded at any moment, ready to cross his arms over his nudity or turn his back so only his bare back and ass are shown. He's not going to be giving any "free shows" around this place. Truthfully, he worried for nothing because all Jared did was raise an arm higher than the fog, so Jensen could see, and pointed an index finger in the direction of the master bedroom. A kind of "yo, I'm goin' this way, headin' o-u-t!", and Jensen had to stand there for a minute, once Jared had slid the door back to almost close it, then he released a frustrated chuckle deep from his belly. His whole body moved, shoulders shifting up and down as he covered palms over his face--his flaming cheeks--the scrubbed furiously at his eyeballs through his eyelids at how truly outrageous he was acting.

Had Jared, at anytime in their life together for nearly 20+years--had he ever proved to be a creepy, stalking ready-to-mate Alpha? Uhm...big-fat-N-O! So, why in the hell was Jensen acting so skittish all of a sudden? Why was he fearing the unknown...FROM JARED? There had been a little over twenty years of pent-up sexual tension to release, if Jared suffered from it, and nothing had come out of any of it. Jared was more docile and tenderhearted than a newborn lamb. So what the fuck was Jensen's problem? Did he suddenly come to a realization of his own true self, hidden deeper within that this is what HE would've done had be been that carnal-type Alpha who simply saw all pack members as potential bedding partners? 

Jensen snort-laughs, spitting out water from his pursed lips. Christ, he knew several of the Wilcox pack tended to inter-mate with one another, with that same fear of the unknown pack status from a different lineage who could possibly disturb or disrupt order. And it's most likely why the Wilcox-s stayed so pureblood as they only mixed and mated with their own pack, their own kind, never stepping out of bounds to infiltrate other packs. Which also meant the Wilcox-s never gained much land nor did they grow in leaps and bounds like other werefolk; they grew stagnate and only bred between themselves, their numbers decreasing in droves because they were born prone to illness, weakened by similar DNA and often so alike in temperament, they would fight-to-the-death amongst their own.

"...jesus christ..." Jensen grumbles out as he reaches to shut off the knobs. He places one palm to the tiled wall, taking a second or two to breathe in and out, even-keel his system. He'll drip-dry for a minute as he gathers his thoughts and considers what he'll walk into once he leaves the bathroom. He's not sure what he's prepared for, because he's unsure of what Jared will do. If he wanted to own up to some honesty, he had actually liked it too much, the way Jared had flipped him over and almost took control. It had felt right, almost perfect because that's how Jensen saw the bigger, stronger, more handsome Alpha; Jensen felt like he just couldn't accumulate that kind of prowess to even treat a mate in such a manner. He tries to recall his few scattered sexual experiences, which amount to one or two moments of hurried, frenzied coupling where he may or may not have penetrated for longer than five minutes, because the person under him wasn't a Were; humans were occasionally good for Alpha were cubs where they were attempting to explore their socio-sexual lives away from pack.

A randy, temperamental Alpha, of a maturation age of 16-18 summers, tended to stray from lower pack statuses as a rite of passage. Lead Alphas and father Alphas approved of these explorations as it often washed away tensions and frustrations; they tended to frown down on lower pack statuses using this as an excuse because it was more honorable to save one's self for the eventual mating in a few years. Alphas were respected and could handle the lofty responsibility of beginning their sexuality at a much earlier age. Betas and Omegas had to adhere to a stricter rite of passage as it was thought they only gained significance and maturity once mated to an older Alpha.

In a chaotic pack like the Wilcox-s, where the supposed father Alphas were the same age as their mates or, sometimes, there was a random death of a parent or the mature adult pack members who nurtured the younger pups and cubs, the chances of adhering to traditional ways were nonexistent. Cubs raised pups and pups raised pup siblings; the cohesiveness sometimes never grew out of a child-like stage, and sex and knotting was used to curb and curtail, command and control. Probably why matings never lasted and mates often fought with teeth and claws to break free.

Thankfully, Jensen had safely made it out, but it still made him hate himself, hate his life, and even hate his future outlook if he didn't try to escape his past, crawl out of his Alpha-skin to become a better man, a different man than his cousins. Jared had become his outright sanity, at times, and he didn't want to lose that for anything. Losing Jared would bring him to an end, the world would be less bright and life would have no meaning and Jensen knew that his heart would never beat correctly again. Angrier with himself for being such a coward, he opens the shower door and yanks off the dry towel from the metal rack to mop at his face and hair, scrubbing at the moist follicles. He shimmies the material along neck and nape, then slides down his back to curl around his rounded backside; he shakes out the extra fabric and tucks the corners into one another to make a sarong-skirt about his waist. He made sure to go a little higher to wrap around his pudge, making his frame look slimmer. Jensen takes a deep, heaving sigh before he heads to the sliding door, placing five fingertips of his right hand on the wood to shift the door aside on its tracking.

It's darker in the master bedroom; there's low lighting and soft hums of some type of background noise that's not anywhere close to music, like it's sounds of the forest or the woods around them. It's a calming disturbance, but what's more rattling is that the room looks deserted, yet, Jared had let his presence be known. Jensen could smell him, scent his freshly-clean skin and dampened hair, that small spritz of musk he douses his body with, maybe even what he rolls under his armpits to take away perspiration. THIS is what Jared smells like when he patrols, when he comes to visit Jensen in the garage and they go out to breakfast, or lunch...most of the time dinner. Jared is nowhere to be found and there's something dark and furry on the huge bed. There's always the soft skinpelts of the Padalecki pack, their ancestral clan fur colorings marked throughout their history of existence: deep browns and inky blacks, silvery grays and stark whites of the pureblood snow-white furred kin that had drawn them across Northern plains to reach Southern plantations.

Jensen is used to seeing the clan hues donning the bed, covering the expensive Bed, Bath and Beyond bedding. To go with the darker woods of the furniture, Jared tends to stick with rich tans and chocolate browns, sometimes venturing into sinister blacks with charcoal grays; whatever the ensemble, the bedroom always looks as if Jared's ready to have sex, or knot the next mateable pack member. The random, haphazardness of leathers often throws Jensen, but it's good to see as it pleases the eye with the matching colors of fur, bedding and raw, naked Alpha.

Walking to the left bedside--the side Jared has given over to Jensen if he sleeps here, Jensen extends his arms to touch the massive clumping of stitched together fur that has formed some type of a hooded cape-thing. It's criminal how authentic and enriched with essential vitamins and minerals the pelts of fur look; the gloss of the silkiness is nearly blinding. Grabbing the lapels in both fists, Jensen draws the sewn material to his face and manages to roll his eyes in the back of his head--christ, this even smells like Jared...his essence, his purity, the rawness of his flesh when he just climbs out of the lake on a sunny morning. It's maddening how arousing this is to him, like a simple piece of clothing--this cape-thingy--can bring him to a sudden boil and wrench his gut into knots or swirl it into a tangled mess of choked emotions.

"That..." the deep hush of Jared's voice wafts from the left, coming from his short climb up the shallow stairs to land on the bedroom floor. He stays in the distance, leaning back on the small railing from stair to wall, folding arms over his bare chest. He's wearing his own clean towel, still, and watching Jensen deeply inhale the robe's scent, slightly rubbing the softness over his cheeks. "...is an official clan robe--once worn by a very proud and boorish Alpha...one of the first Padalecki's in Poland."

Jensen made a frowny-face of fright as he deposited the fur back on the bed, then tried to wipe his oily, salty skin remnants off the sacred material. "--an' what the hell is it doin' here, on your bed...right where I lay...?" He's not being sarcastic or rude, but he is wondering why Jared would bring out something this antiquated, setting it down as if it was every-day t-shirts and jeans.

Jared smirks at the "right where I lay" bit; he's grateful Jensen takes a territorial place in this bed of his. It's too fucking huge for him to sleep in alone anymore. It deserves to be owned by a rightful Alpha, and Jensen is its perfect size and sentiment. "Christmas has come early...or, 'Happy Birthday'..." He shrugs one shoulder, now crossing his ankles as he leans far back on the thick rail.

Glancing between the fur robe and Jared, Jensen feels his jaw unhinge, lips part and words stifle out in nervous fits. "--wha--? are you--? is this some--? I don't...what..." He seems to run out of steam and takes another heave of a sigh. "You're givin' it to me?"

Jared touches his palm to his chest, over his heart to then throw its intention in Jensen's direction. "I am gifting you a special precious present for your...'renewal'..."

Jensen can't look at Jared, so he takes a hard swallow as he stares down at this hulking creation of real animal furs. "I have years, yet, until I reach my potential for a proper renewal." He locks his jaw and scrapes his teeth together. He's never been the kind of human-form Were who practices the rites of passages for Alphas; since achieving 30 summers, his dawning comes closer to his "renewal" years--kind of like a mid-life crisis in human life; it's the second leg of Jensen's maturity as a higher pack status and it's typically garnered with something spectacular, be it from old pack, or a father Alpha passing on heirlooms to his Alpha son. If mated, the maturing Alpha will sometimes be given possessions of their mates, commemorating the growing years toward "renewal". "Jay, I--" Now he only reaches out to barely skim with the fingers of his right hand. He can't take this; it's not right. It was properly passed on to Jared, by his ancestral pack members from Poland. Jared is the rightful Alpha this furry robe belongs to, and Jensen taking it or even contemplating wearing it briefly feels like an act of sin.

Pushing off from the railing, Jared wanders over. "Why don't you put it on...try it, see how it feels against your skin..."

Jensen shakes his head as he takes a few steps closer to the bed in order to heft the robe off the mattress. It doesn't sound cruel, but he has told Jared plenty of times how he loves the feel of authentic pelts against his skin. Somehow, Jared has made a mad-dash to stand behind him, so there's two extra hands helping him slip an arm through one sleeve as the hooded collar is draped over his broad shoulders, then he tucks his left arm through the final sleeve. Jesus, it's like fifteen pounds of added weight draped on him; he looks at how his hands barely peek out of the belled cuffs. "--though this feels heavenly...I look fuckin' ridiculous..." He can't bear to glance down at himself because it's as if he's some little cub trying on his Daddy Alpha's clothes, fitting tiny feet into big-ass shoes.

Admiring the sight before him, Jared grows silent, contemplative as he spies dark fur against Jensen's gorgeously pale, freckled skin; how it has this afterglow from the shower and appears flushed with blood and nervous tension. The darker brown hues make the redness of each freckle twinkle and the red-golden highlights in Jensen's blunt-cut strands stand out. "...you...look..." He's trying to find the words and the way Jensen keeps fidgeting and frowning severely block his thought process, because he knows Jensen will undress himself before he's even had the chance to locate the perfect description. Jensen has never like being stared at, and hates it even more to be ogled while unclothed to this extent. He hears that noise of frustration, the small action to slip off the robe. "No! Don't!" Jared clamps hands down hard on Jensen's shoulders, keeping the robe in place. "...leave it on...please..." It sounds like a desperate plea for obedience.

Oh, man...there is something to be said about the sensation of fur between their intimate touching, when in human-form.

Jared closes his eyes, licking lips. He can't believe what he's about to say, "--why don't you take your towel off--get the full fee--affect of feeling fur on your...entire body." Even though he does lift his lids, he doesn't raise his eyes. He won't admit to having tried on the fur robe, of having worn it naked--just once...or maybe, twice, then accidentally falling asleep in it to wake up with the subtle sensation of soft silk between his human thighs and along his groin, to barely brush his erect nipples...he takes a step toward Jensen, dropping his hand so fingers tuck inside the gaping robe lapels. Fingers catch on the towel hem to help, in case Jensen needs an extra hand...then a tight latch of one hand locks around Jared's wrist.

"--jay...please...don'..."

**= = || || = =**

**TBC**...


End file.
